


The Devil's Due

by lil_harvey



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Not Canon Compliant, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 67,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_harvey/pseuds/lil_harvey
Summary: Following the nightmare of the Hare-Moon, the Spellmans agree their only chance at surviving the pagans, is to turn to the Dark Lord. Sabrina volunteers to bargain with him and manages to reach his cell before Nick accidentally frees him. From there they make a pact, his freedom and throne, for Sabrina.
Relationships: The Dark Lord | Satan/Sabrina Spellman
Comments: 325
Kudos: 436





	1. Sealed with a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slow build-up. Canon diverges toward the end of Season 3 Episode 4: The Hare-Moon. There will be lots of smut to come.

It was a morose atmosphere in the Spellman living room. Their ranks were in turmoil after the return of a stone Dorcas and mad Agatha by the pagans. Further, with the Hare-Moon and all magic associated with it stolen from them, there were no clear paths left to turn, save one. As always, Sabrina’s aunt Zelda wasn’t one to mince words.

“The pagans are a clear and present danger, and we are without strength. As dangerous as it will be…we must free the Dark Lord.” Sabrina could feel the air ripped from her lungs when the words had finally been said.

“Better the devil you know, than the pagans you don’t,” agreed Ambrose, offering Zelda his support.

“He will be angry at us, and there will be Hell to pay, but He’ll crush the pagans under His hoof.”

Sabrina could feel more and more pieces of herself curling up and fraying inside of her at each word that came out of her aunt’s mouth. It wasn’t that she disagreed, more than she knew there was only one person the Dark Lord might entertain such a plea from. “I’ll do it,” she managed to whisper.

“No! Sabrina—”

“Auntie Zee, we don’t have a choice,” she said with a sad smile at her fierce aunt, who, while down for the count still tried to brave Hell, pagans, and the world to protect her. “He’s my father, Auntie. I’m the only one who can do this. What have you taught me all these years?” she said, trying to appeal to her aunt’s fierce sense of responsibility. “You taught me,” she continued, not allowing anyone to answer, “that we have to do what’s right by the Coven. I messed up, Auntie Zee. It’s time to Witch-Up and pay the Devil His due.” She choked on the last word, trying not to show how terrified she was at the thought.

“He might listen to her,” offered her aunt Hilda, trying to show support to her young niece. “You are His daughter.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, Aunties,” promised Sabrina, not waiting to hear whatever her aunts or cousin had left to say.

* * *

Dragging her feet the entire way, it did not take long for Sabrina to arrive at the Witch’s Cell. She stood at the door a minute, collecting herself, before taking a deep breath and marching in with more fanfare than confidence. “Alright dad, it’s just you and—Nick?!”

She watched as Nick’s back stiffened at her presence, in the midst of grabbing two vials from her father’s hands. Without thinking through a plan, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and yanked him out of the salt circle, hastily dropping to her knees when Nick fell back toward the door, trying to spread the remaining salt around to keep her father secure. She was face-to-face with her father now, all pretenses of Father Blackwood’s visage gone.

“Daughter mine,” He greeted, regarding her curiously, a dark smile flitting across His lips as He sniffed the air around her several times. “Does my nose deceive me, or is that the blood of an angel you wear for me tonight? What trouble has my darling daughter been up to?”

She quickly looked away over her shoulder and was relieved to see Nick passed out in the doorway, one less thing to worry about. She returned her gaze to Lucifer, and let out a surprised huff, falling on her bottom when she realized how close her father had come to the edge of the circle.

“Why are you here, daughter?” He asked stonily.

“I came here to speak with you,” she said, taking a deep breath before standing up and crossing into the circle. She enjoyed the brief look of confusion on His face when she stepped closer to Him. She crouched down on her toes before Him, taking a hold of the steel manacles around His wrists, and said as assertively as she could manage, “I’ve come to make a deal.”

His answering smile was truly wicked. “I’m listening.”

“In 1612, the Pendle Coven did something to offend you so greatly, that you removed their powers from them. Several months later, they were slaughtered by witch-hunters,” she said, scowling at the cold Damascus steel wrapped around His wrists.

“I am aware,” He said bored, reaching forward with one hand to tip her chin up to face Him. “Go on.”

She swallowed. “The pagans have descended on Greendale; the coven is powerless; my friends are in trouble. We…I need your help, father.”

“Call me, Daddy.”

She felt her stomach curl at the order but repeated her request. “I need you…Daddy.”

His wretched smile mocked her, forcing bile up her throat. “I am not known to be merciful, daughter,” He said, using His one hand to keep her face trained on His own, His thumb painting her lips as He spoke to her. “What would you give me in return? Your transgressions far exceed the Pendle Coven. What does your Coven have to offer? What do you offer, in return for my generosity?”

“Freedom—”

“Freedom alone will not save you,” He hissed, tightening His hold on her face. “You have humiliated me, daughter. You lied to me, imprisoned me, destabilized Hell and allowed the Infernal Court to question my legacy. Tell me, what do you have to offer, truly, besides freedom?”

His rant offered her a moment of clarity, prompting her to push against His hand and challenge, “I do have something you want, _Daddy_.” Mulling over His words and watching as His eyes lit up with an internal fire that fit His image as the King of Hell, she said “I sit on the throne in Pandemonium. Once I have finished gathering the Unholy Regalia and correct the mess I made in Hell, I will give it back to you, freely. Further,” she said, with a devilish smirk of her own, charming her father despite His desire to remain angry with her. “Pride. I have given you a reason to have pride in your progeny. You are the King of Lies, my Dark Lord, and we, your followers, walk the path you have shown us. Is it not fitting that a Morningstar should trick a Morningstar? Your rebellion shaped the world, it should come to no surprise that you would have a rebellious daughter.”

He let go of her face and sat back against the stone wall, His face no longer twisted by anger, but deliberation. After an eternity in silence, He finally addressed her with a soft and simple answer. “No.”

She was shocked. “No?”

“You will release me from all bindings, including this flesh Acheron. I will resume favour of your Church of Night,” He agreed. “I will also smite the pagans from Greendale. I will assume the throne of Pandemonium, daughter, but,” He added quickly, a dark and unholy expression stealing across His face, “it will not be because you have gifted it to me. You will marry me, daughter. You will assume your rightful position at my side.”

“My friends—”

“Will be spared,” He waved His hand, unconcerned.

“My school—”

“Yes, yes,” He interrupted, keen to taste from again. “There’ll be time to negotiate after—”

“The devil is in the details, _daddy_.”

He laughed, delighted by her fire. “Do you accept the bargain price, daughter?”

It took her a moment, and a spare glance back at her boyfriend, before agreeing. “I do.” She could feel the weight of their agreement on her heart when the words passed her lips. Somehow it felt more condemning than signing the Book of the Beast.

“Now, now daughter,” He tutted, drawing himself to a stand. “You’ve struck a bargain with the devil. Unfortunately, your words and pretty promises have no meaning following your…rebellion. Our accord will be sealed by a covenant between you and I. Come closer to me.” His chains rattled loudly with His movement, and while it was clearly a strain on Him, He managed to pull Sabrina into His arms, His hand once again finding itself under her chin, and tipping her face up to meet His own. “Open wide for Daddy.”

Feeling more degraded by the second, she could not dignify a response, and so she closed her eyes and did as she was told. She was momentarily startled to feel a pair of soft lips press against her own, before a forked tongue slithered its way into her mouth, mapping a pattern along her own. The second His tongue ceased moving, she felt as though her body had begun to pulse and a pattern burn itself on to the sensitive skin of her mouth. When she realized she had been standing there with her eyes closed for a number of minutes, she opened them slowly to look upon the face of Lucifer Morningstar.

“What was that?” she asked, touching her lips.

“A covenant, daughter. You made a deal with me and I sealed your promise with a kiss.”

“My tongue,” she said, biting her lip. “It burns.”

“Yes, that is our contract. As it is burned into you, so it is with me,” He said, displaying the back of His left hand, where an artful design bearing His brand, her name, and what appeared to be a mix of Latin, Greek, Sumerian, and Hebrew. “The contract will fade once all conditions are met. Speaking of which,” He held out both hands for her, twisting His wrists to make His chains rattle, “I know where we can start.”

With a quickly spoken command, the manacles unlocked, freeing the Dark Lord's hands.

Sabrina could feel the magic coursing back into her the second He found freedom from the chains. She stood spellbound to the energy washing over her. Like a limb cut from circulation too long, the release of her magic flowed through her so swiftly it made her skin itch and muscles tingle, creating a pins and needles sensation all over her body. She burned inside like a fire on a cold solstice night. Her heart thrummed excitedly as she looked herself over, as though the changes she felt would manifest physically.

“While this has been fun,” commented her father dryly, “I believe we have other places to be. If you’d be so kind,” He said, eyes drifting along the salt circling surrounding them.

Bargain already struck, Sabrina kicked a foot out and broke the circle, once again setting the devil free on Greendale.

* * *

The Spellmans knew the second the Dark Lord crossed the threshold of their residence. The smell of brimstone choked the air as several crosses spread throughout the house suddenly ignited as one. It was Ambrose who spotted Him first, dressed in the rags of Father Blackwood, His hand settled possessively on the shoulder of His cousin as He steered her into the kitchen. He led his cousin to the table, pulling a chair out for her to sit.

"D-Dark Lord," greeted Ambrose, scrambling to his feet and bowing deeply before the Dark Lord. He could feel his two aunts following suit the second their attention was drawn to Him. “Forgive us—”

“Enough,” snapped the Dark Lord, waving His wayward servants quiet. “Grovelling bores me. Sabrina and I have struck a deal. Zelda Spellman,” He said, turning on the red-headed witch. “You will remove me from this flesh Acheron at once, and I will consider your family’s betrayal and conversion to the Church of _Lilith_ , forgotten. You will once again commit yourselves solely to me, and Spellman...I foresee a number of devotions in your futures.”

“Yes, Dark Lord! Praise Satan!”

“Praise Satan!” repeated Hilda and Ambrose.

With a snap of His fingers, Ambrose, Hilda, and Zelda could feel their magic slowly begin to return.

“I understand we are at war with the pagans,” stated the Dark Lord, both hands now resting on Sabrina’s shoulders. “My daughter tells me they think to overrun Greendale.”

“Yes, Dark Lord. Two of our Coven have already fallen victim, your disgrace” explained Hilda, twisting a tablecloth in her hands nervously. “Dorcas was turned to stone, and another, Agatha, rendered mad. We believe it to be the work of the pagan God, Pan, and a gorgon, your unholiest.”

“Have the remaining followers of the Church of Night, along with Dorcas and Agatha, congregate in the Desecrated Church at midnight,” ordered the Dark Lord.

“I will take care of it, Dark Lord,” advised Ambrose, rising from the table and leaving for the Academy.

The Dark Lord took a moment, to trail a hand down Sabrina’s neck, enjoying the softness of her skin. “Sabrina, once I have reassumed my true form, you and I will be taking a little trip to Pandemonium to deal with a former handmaiden of mine. In the meantime, you may run me a bath while your aunt prepares the spell required to separate me from this lowly bag of flesh you’ve chained me too.”

“Yes, Dark Lord,” she whispered. She stood up to see to her task, when His hand captured her arm and pulled her back to Him, forcing a small gasp out of her aunts. He tilted her face up so that she looked Him in the eye.

“Do not think to try anything silly, Sabrina. My patience for games is famously short.”

“Yes, Dark Lord,” she said, pulling away from her father to resume her task.

* * * 

Sabrina felt as though her body was on autopilot as she made her way to her room. She rifled around her bath, adjusting the water temperature, dimming the lights, looking for candles, and soap that didn’t scream sixteen-year-old girl. She was so out of sorts, she didn’t realize her aunt Hilda had followed her, until she had walked into her trying to get into the linen closet.

  
“My poor darling girl,” she fussed, pulling her addled niece into a hug. “You are all out of sorts, my love. What is going on inside that head of yours.”

She blinked distractedly at her aunt, unsure of where to start. “I…I had to make a deal with the Dark Lord, Auntie.”

“He did mention a deal between the two of you,” she said, voice tentative as she stroked her nieces back, frightened at the prospect of what the Dark Lord may have bargained for. “What has the Dark Lord asked you to do, Sabrina? I didn’t expect Him to pardon us so quickly or agree to assist us with the pagans.”

“Freedom from the Witch’s Cell and flesh Acheron,” she began, trying to figure out the best way to spring her impending nuptials on her aunt.

“Well that’s not so bad. I figured He would ask for much more than that.”

Sabrina felt her aunt’s arms loosening, and knew she’d never be able to tell her the rest without the support. She tightened her arms around Hilda and mumbled into her neck about how she was supposed to marry the Dark Lord, locate the rest of the Unholy Regalia, and restabilize Hell.

“I didn’t quite catch that, dear.”

“That wasn’t the only thing,” admitted Sabrina, forcing herself to repeat the words aloud. “I promised to give Him Pandemonium and the Unholy Regalia after I beat Caliban for the throne.”

“Okay,” she said, not thrilled at the idea of her niece putting her neck on the line for the Kingdom of Hell, but not surprised by the condition either. “I can’t say it thrills me to have you running around Hell for a bunch of relics, but that’s still not terrible. I admit I’ll be pleased as punch when you no longer have be Queen of Hell. I miss having you home, darling. Your auntie Zelda, Ambrose, and I love having you here.” 

“That’s not all, Aunt Hilda.”

“What is it Sabrina?”

“I’ll still be Queen of Hell, auntie,” she whispered. “My father didn’t want me to just hand over the keys to the Kingdom.”

Hilda could feel her insides freeze before her niece even finished the sentence.

“He wants me to rule by His side…as His wife.”

It took a moment for the full impact of the words to hit her. When they did, Hilda exploded. “He can’t mean to marry you,” she said, a horrified laugh escaping her. “You’re His daughter. His sixteen-year-old daughter. My sixteen-year-old niece cannot be the child bride of the Dark Lord.”

“I don’t think that means much in Hell, Auntie.”

“Nor in the Church of Night, I’m afraid, but that’s—that can’t be! No, Sabrina.”

“We made a covenant Auntie. He has the contract on the back of His hand. He told me talk was cheap since I’d lied to Him before, and I had to prove I would hold up my end of the bargain by entering into a Devil's contract with Him.”

“And where is your copy of the contract, love?”

She blushed, poking her tongue out at her aunt, hoping she didn’t look as embarrassed or ashamed as she felt remembering exactly how the contract was written into her skin.

“…Right. I’ll have Ambrose look into the particulars of a Devil’s contract when he gets back from scouring up the rest of the Church of Night. You best finish up in here before his unholiness decides to join you.”

“Yes, aunt Hilda.”


	2. Double, Bubble, Toil and Trouble

Sabrina decided to continue distracting herself with the task Lucifer had set out for her, once her aunt had fled, no doubt searching out her aunt Zelda to get ahead on the bad news. Satan save her from having to deal with that reaction right now. She worried her lip considering what to do with Nick, who was propped up against the stairs outside in front of the house, being dutifully watched over by Salem. It was as far as the Dark Lord was willing to force Father Blackwood to carry him. She remembered His cold words stopping her from dragging Nick into the house: "you don’t take the trash back in once it’s already been taken out."

After laying out a variety of options on the small tray across her bathtub, checking and double-checking there was a freshly laundered towel within easy reach of the tub, a clean bathmat set out on the floor, and the room wasn’t lit too bright, Sabrina walked into her bedroom, where the Dark Lord had deigned to make himself comfortable on her bed, surprisingly silent while she had been at work.

“The bath is ready, Dark Lord. I’ll leave—”

“You will stay and attend to me, Sabrina.” He stood from the bed, approaching her small form in front of the washroom. “I’ve been living in filth because of you, dear daughter. It is only right that you should take responsibility for your mistakes.”

She pursed her lips and kept reminding herself that it was all for the good of the Coven. “Yes, Dark Lord.”

“Go on, call me Daddy.” He enjoyed the powerplay. His daughter was incredibly easy to read, and He enjoyed the wash of emotions she displayed whenever He said something or did something that bothered her. She was going to be a delight to mould.

“Yes, Daddy,” she managed to spit out.

“That’s a good girl,” He said, petting her head, and walking past her into the washroom. He stood at the foot of the bath, bored, looking at her expectantly. “You may undress me any time, Sabrina.”

Her throat worked slightly at the demand, but she nodded and came to stand before Him, slowly lifting the rough material from His chest, up and over His head and arms. Objectively, she allowed herself to admit He was incredibly handsome, but He was still deplorable, and above all else, He was still her father. Distracted, she couldn’t help but compare Him to Nick and Harvey. He was nothing like them. He was tall, taller than both. She found she had to strain her neck to look Him in the eye. His shoulders were broader too, tapering into a tautly defined waist. There was no arguing her father was a handsome devil.

“Do I pass inspection, daughter?” He asked, laughing at her embarrassment as she pushed her eyes back down to task. He preened at her flagrant approval of His body and ate up her innocence when she refused to reply. He reached up to stroke a burning cheek, as she struggled with the tie on His pants.

Ignoring His touch, she managed to undo the tie, tracing the slight curve of His hips as she helped slip the material down and onto the floor. She quickly averted her eyes back to His when she realized He wasn’t wearing anything else.

“Thank you, daughter.” He stepped past her into the tub, sighing when the hot water touched His skin. He nearly melted into the tub when He leaned back, allowing the heat to steal away the soreness in His joints and stiffness in His muscles. Without looking, He carelessly grabbed a sponge from the tray Sabrina had prepared for Him, handing it back to her expectantly. “I think I’m going to enjoy this very much, daughter.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a random bar of soap from the tray, lathering up the sponge before tracing it along one of His arms, wondering how far exactly the Dark Lord expected her to play along with this little fantasy of His. She worked her way along His shoulders first, brushing the sponge down and around His one forearm, circling His wrist, and coming to end at His hand. He had nice hands, she thought, admiring the long, delicate fingers before focusing her attention on the opposite arm. She lingered around the contract, tracing the symbols that twinned the one on her tongue. It was fitting she thought, that He had musicians' hands, for He was certainly the Grand conductor of Hell and misfortune. She rinsed off the sponge quickly and returned to a paler, older, and more haggard hand with sharp white fingernails. Dropping the sponge, she looked up to see a myriad of tattoos, dark hair, and darker eyes.

“Father Blackwood,” she greeted, wiping her hands, and stepping back.

“Where am I?” he demanded, looking around the washroom with disdain.

“Where do you think you are?” she gestured to the room.

“Why am I here?”

“You’re the flesh Acheron to the Dark Lord. You’re here because He is.”

“If I am here, it's clear the Church of Night is in dire straights. I am surprised the Dark Lord even bothered to entertain a bargain with you, half-breed. It's clear you're woefully unprepared for what is coming,” sneered Faustus.

"If you're referring to the Old Ones—”

"Please, the pagans are nothing but a carnival side-show with cheap tricks, backed by dying and antiquated Gods. That you even had to come and beg before the Dark Lord to take you back and deal with them, shows how far our once-great Coven has fallen."

"You conveniently forget your own hand in all of this," she shot back angrily. "The Coven wouldn't be nearly as weak as they are if someone had poisoned and murdered half our people at the start of all this! You know, for someone about to be surrounded by the witches and warlocks you've betrayed, you don't seem nearly worried enough." On a roll, and unable to take out her anger on the Dark Lord, she opened her mouth to vent more of her frustration at the disgraced High Priest but found herself shutting it just as quickly when it seemed to spark far too much interest from Blackwood.

“It's strange," he said coyly. "All this time talking with you, and I've suddenly realized how curious it is there's still a Spellman left to entertain this conversation.” He paused, contemplating her. "You and your family, and presumably what remains of the Coven, imprisoned and dethroned the Dark Lord." As if it suddenly dawned on him what was going on, he began to take in his surroundings and her actions when he assumed control of his body. "The Dark Lord is not a merciful one. His forgiveness came at a price." He sensed he struck a nerve with her continued silence, and thrilled at the knowledge.

“You can finish cleaning up by yourself,” she replied haughtily, turning to leave the room.

“Wait!”

She stopped in the doorway, curious despite herself.

“You plan to free the Dark Lord this night?” asked Faustus, momentarily worried what the separation might mean for him and his plan with the Time Egg. He'd mentioned the Eldritch Terrors to the Dark Lord briefly in conversation and wasn't sure whether or not Satan had put much stock in his words. Faustus knew the Dark Lord would be distracted enough by the pagans and destabilized Hell, he just had to make sure he survived long enough to see his own plans come to fruition.

“It would appear so—Ow!” She didn’t wait to hear whatever else he had to say, distracted by the pain in her mouth. Her tongue suddenly felt as though it were on fire. She began fanning the skin as best she could, unable to figure out why it felt like someone had taken a hot poker to the sensitive flesh. She ran to the floor-length mirror in her bedroom, and standing close to her reflection, she stuck her tongue out as far as she could see. She gasped at the angry-looking lines on display. The faint black marks that made up the contract were throbbing, but it was the puffy pale halo that outlined the dark edges of the contract that stole her attention. Her tongue was smoking faintly and the acrid smell of burning flesh in her nostrils confirmed it was her.

“You made a deal with the devil, daughter,” said the Dark Lord, standing in the door of her washroom, a too-small towel wrapped poorly around His waist, offering none of the modesty it should have. He was looking at the back of His hand as he spoke. “You cannot renege on your promises once the bargain is struck.”

“I wasn’t—”

“The contract can feel intent, Sabrina.” He crossed the room, to grip her chin and force her gaze to His face. “Even now, you scheme and plot to have things your way. You cannot. You gave me your word, daughter, a pact sealed into your flesh.” He showed her the back of His hand, a pink ring framing the dark outlines of the contract we’d made. “You cannot attempt to change things without my knowing.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, horrified by the new implications of the contract.

He looked at her stricken face, and gently cupped her chin with His own burned hand. “Cheer up, daughter,” He chided. “It won’t do to have you despondent and injured on this glorious day. Your rebellious tongue is one of your best features.”

Before she could think to comment, He leaned down to seal her mouth with His, the action far gentler than He cared. Snaking His forked tongue through her lips, He stroked the smarting lines on her tongue, casting a balm that pulled a relieved sigh from her mouth. Unwittingly, she reached up to stroke His injured hand, casting a soothing spell of her own.

Which is exactly how her aunt Zelda found them.

* * *

“You’re quiet, cousin,” commented Ambrose, watching his cousin fold her hands nervously together while their aunt Zelda tended to the Dark Lord upstairs. “Devil got your tongue?”

“What?” she near shouted, looking up at her cousin, shocked. “No! Why would you say that?”

“It’s just a saying, cousin. What has you so on edge?” He could tell something was bother her. While his cousin had always been full of frenetic energy, which he chalked up to her being half-human, she was never quiet.

“Has Aunt Hilda spoken with you yet?”

“No, why?”

“She’s going to ask you to look into a devil’s pact for me,” she explained, nervously looking about to ensure they were alone. “The Dark Lord demanded a contract with me before He’d help us, Ambrose.”

“A covenant?” he replied, his studious mind ablaze with possibility at the information. A covenant made with the Dark Lord personally, outside of those demons who made contracts on His behalf, was exceedingly rare. He’d only ever seen footnotes of previous examples in the demonology books he’d read.

“Yes. What can you tell me about them?”

“Do you have a copy of the contract?” he asked, eager.

“I do.” She was about to poke out her tongue when a thought struck her. “Ambrose, does the placement of the contract have any importance?”

“To a point,” he said. “The more visible the contract, the more powerful it typically is. Written contracts, like you’d see on parchment, tend toward the weak end of the spectrum. Physical contracts, though exceedingly rare and terribly risky, are much more powerful and binding.”

“How so?”

“It is easy to pen a name to paper, cousin, even if the contract is laid out in blood,” explained Ambrose. “To sear a contract into skin is far more complicated. Both parties must fully accept the conditions laid out in the bargain, and sustained physical contact is required for the contract to be drawn out. The wearer must be receptive to the contact for the contract to settle. Failure to adhere to the conditions agreed upon has serious ramifications. Pain and death are not unheard of.” He watched as his cousin bit her lip, mulling over his words. “What type of covenant did the Dark Lord strike with you?”

“A physical one.”

His eyes studied her, looking for an inkling of the agreement on her skin. Her inability to meet his gaze told him there was more his cousin had to say but hadn’t found the words yet. “You asked about placement, cousin. Exactly where is your copy of the contract?”

It took her a moment to build up the courage to face him. Blushing, she managed to poke her tongue out, long enough for him to register the mark. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, waiting for the scolding she was sure he was building up to. What she didn’t expect was the laughter.

She opened her eyes and smacked him. “Ambrose!”

“Sorry, cousin,” he said, his amusement controlled but clearly still present in his face and voice. “I did not expect to see your contract…where it is. Pray tell, how did the Dark Lord manage to sear the contract on so personal a space?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she shot back defensively.

“Peace, cousin.” He placed his hands on her shoulders bracingly. “I will look into the particulars of a devil’s covenant and see what else I can scrounge up. In the meantime," he added, seriously, "I thought you should know that when I left for the Academy, I noticed your paramour passed-out on our front porch. I took the liberty of spiriting him along with me and left him in the care of Dorian Gray.”

She took a deep breath and sighed deeply, relieved. “Thank you, Ambrose.”

“Sabrina,” he began, stopping suddenly as if cautious of what he had to left to say.

“What is it Ambrose?”

“Might I suggest you keep from sharing any details and the location of your contract with anyone else,” he said slowly, trying not to risk his cousin’s ire. “I’m not sure how they might take it.”

“You mean, Nick.”

“No, cousin. I mean everyone.” He paused a moment before continuing, “I assume our aunties are aware of the particulars?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You don’t have to share with me the details of your arrangement with the Dark Lord, cousin. In fact, I don’t think you should share the particulars with anyone else,” he suggested. “As I said earlier, physical covenants are extremely rare and are dangerous at the best of times. Not enough is known about them, and I would hate to see anyone attribute something more to it than what it is.”

“Ambrose, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t know cousin,” he said honestly. “I’m going to have to look more into the matter myself.”

* * *

“How much longer do you think it’s going to take?” asked Sabrina, watching as her aunt Hilda busied herself around the kitchen, fretting over food, dishes, and dirt. Her aunt Hilda had been a mass of chaotic energy ever since she and Ambrose had decided to join her. Sabrina wasn’t looking forward to whatever words her aunt Zelda had waiting for her, especially after she had wordlessly excused Sabrina from her room after stumbling upon her and the Dark Lord embraced as they were. The anticipation was eating her alive.

  
“Shouldn’t be long now, my loves,” she replied distractedly. “Undoing a flesh Acheron is a complicated task. I would imagine, with someone as important as the Dark Lord, my sister will want to take every precaution.”

It was not lost on Ambrose that every time his auntie looked at Sabrina, she was close to tears. 

Unable to abide by the silence, Sabrina continued badgering her relatives, this time looking to Ambrose. “You’re sure everyone got the memo to meet at the Desecrated Church at midnight?”

“I delivered the message to Prudence myself when I got the Academy. I don’t think there’s anyone better at spreading news at the school alive…or dead, for that matter, than her.”

“That’s true.”

Any further conversation was ground to a halt when they heard someone coming down the steps. Sabrina felt her stomach freeze and sink simultaneously when those steps began making their way to the kitchen. Bracing herself for the worst, she held her breath and counted to ten. She couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped her, when it was only her Auntie Zelda that appeared.

“Auntie—”

She was silenced when her aunt lifted her hand. “What were you thinking, Sabrina?” she asked furiously. She held up her hand again when her niece tried to speak up. “The Dark Lord has asked that I send you up Him, and I dare not say no.” Sabrina was coming to know the expression on her aunt Zee’s face as fear, and was sad to realize she had been the reason to put it there so frequently. “I left Him with whatever clothes I could find of your father—Edward’s.” 

“Aunt—”

“I was able to break the flesh Acheron,” she said, interrupting her niece. “The Dark Lord is returned to us, Praise Satan!”

“Praise Satan!” murmured the forgotten occupants of the table, watching the play-by-play between aunt and niece anxiously. 

“Go to Him now, Sabrina,” she ordered, voice breaking on her niece’s name. “The Dark Lord is not a patient man.”


	3. Lilith

He was dressed in tailored pants that were entirely too short, exposing a few inches of ankle, hoof, and shin. He also wore a white dress shirt that was far too tight around the shoulders to be considered decent, even with all the buttons He had left open to address the difference in size. Poorly dressed as He was, He still managed to assume an impressive air of nobility. She supposed it shouldn’t have shocked her, considering He was a heavenly being that had taken on the False God Himself, before amassing a kingdom and leading a rebellion against the False God’s entire life work.

She could tell He knew she was there, but refused to turn around acknowledge her first. “My aunt said you requested me?” she asked, tentatively.

“Yes, daughter.” He turned around and approached His would-be bride, standing over her as He continued to speak. “You and I have some business to attend to in Hell before I address my wayward flock.”

“You mean Caliban and the Unholy Regalia?”

“Lilith,” He replied, a demonic light flashing behind His eyes.

“Right,” she said, thinking about her unsuspecting regent in Pandemonium, who was in for a rude surprise. “Lilith.”

“There’s also the matter of announcing the news of our engagement before the horde,” He added.

“Shouldn’t that wait until we’ve taken possession of the Unholy Regalia?” she asked, panicked. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of marriage to the Dark Lord. She wasn’t ready for more people to know about her being the future Mrs. Morningstar. “If I fail at collecting the last two items, you still have a chance to challenge Caliban under Infernal Law.”

“You won’t fail,” said the once and future King of Hell, shrugging at her discomfort. 

“You’re awfully confident.”

“You, my daughter, are a Morningstar,” He said as though that were reason enough. “You’ve already betrayed, dethroned, and imprisoned one King of Hell, I don’t expect it will be all that difficult for you to take down the fool pretender calling himself a prince.”

She was oddly flattered by His belief in her. 

“I have punishments to see to for your betrayers as well.”

“My betrayers?” Sabrina asked confused.

“Six hundred and sixty-six lords and ladies,” He said with a cruel smile, somehow all the more sinister and terrifying on His handsome face than any other image He had assumed. “I have not forgotten that after you laid claim to Pandemonium, the mud brat and the Plague Kings devised to dethrone you with the help of my Lords and Ladies of Discord.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I haven’t participated in a large-scale bloodletting ceremony for, what feels like a millennium. The grounds of Pandemonium will be stained red for decades to come after I finish with the horde.” When He received no resistance from His Queen of Hell, He asked, “does my thirst for vengeance not bother you?”

“…No.” Sabrina regarded her father, frankly. “The Plague Kings have already tried to kill me once before. I know they want me to fail at the trials and lose to Caliban. I can’t stand the demons of Hell's need to replace the patriarchy. That throne belongs to me.”

“There’s hope for you yet, daughter,” He lauded, pleased by her wrath. He slipped an arm around her waist while she was caught up in her thoughts, wrapping her tightly against His body. “I have already informed your aunt that I mean to take you to Hell before addressing the Church of Night. Best hold on to me tight, daughter, we don’t want to accidentally leave any part of you behind.”

Crushing her head to His chest and digging her fingers into His back, she held her breath and blinked, suddenly in Pandemonium. Her arms were still fiercely locked around the Dark Lord when her gaze met Lilith’s. 

“What a surprise,” greeted the Mother of Monsters, eyes immediately averting to the ground, years of subservience making the act a practised art. “My Lord and Lady.”

The Dark Lord didn’t immediately release Sabrina from His embrace, content for the moment, to hold on to her as He looked down irritably on His former handmaiden. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Lilith,” He said cruelly, His words barbed and cold as ice as they formed on His sharp tongue and lashed out at His servant. “Four hundred years in the Pit of Despair might give you all the time you need to compile your excuses, whore.”

Madam Satan made no move to argue or fight His decision, her eyes still downcast as the Dark Lord dolled punishment on his once favoured acolyte. “I am yours eternally to command, Dark Lord.”

Lilith’s subservience bothered Sabrina, more than she could say. She didn’t realize she had balled up Lucifer’s shirt in her hands, until He gently plucked them away from His chest, to hold firmly in His own. “You, undoubtedly, have an opinion on the subject, daughter.”

She squeezed her father’s hands tightly, locking doey brown eyes with His own hard green gaze, and whispered, “Please.” Whether He knew it or not, Sabrina could tell she had captured His full interest the moment He had heard her beg. She tried not to put much stock in that thought and flung whatever excuses she could think of to spare Lilith. “Right now, the Church of Night is headed by my aunt Zelda. You know she is one of the most devout of the Coven to the Path of Night, but she can’t teach every class on top of her demands as High Priestess. You referred to my Coven as your wayward flock. Who better than your most loyal vassal, could teach them how to please you?”

“Loyal?” He scoffed. “My flock betrayed me, daughter. As did your ‘devout’ aunt Zelda,” He said, caressing the side of her face, with His contracted hand. “At your bidding, I might add. I would not put another traitor in their midst to teach them how to do it better next time,” He hissed.

“You told Lilith I was your Queen. How could she refuse me anything?” she pressed, hoping she was pulling off the innocent card. The clear amusement on His face, while a score better than the anger she had just witnessed moments ago, suggested otherwise.

“You have my attention, Sabrina,” He said. “Don’t stop now. Why should I spare, Lilith?”

“There’s the matter of my friends,” she said, taking the contracted hand from her cheek into both of her own, and placing a small kiss on the back. He hissed, and a jolt of pleasure ran through her, the second her lips made contact. Trying not to swallow her tongue, which felt thick and clumsy when she pulled away. “You promised to look after them.”

“I know what I promised,” He said, voice deep, and gruffer than before.

“Lilith looked after them for me,” she said, stroking the back of His hand, keeping His full attention rooted to her and away from the Mother of Monsters. “She was able to keep them safe as Ms. Wardwell. When I was busy at the Academy, she was there for me.”

“Lilith doesn’t do anything for anyone, if it doesn’t benefit her somehow.” He said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, biting the shell and eliciting a sharp breath when He pulled away. “You have not convinced me, daughter. Why should I appoint Lilith to assist your Church of Night? Why for that matter, should I endorse your aunt as High Priestess? There has never been one in our history, and I can look after your pets.”

“You are the Dark Lord, Satan, the King of Hell, and the Lord of Pandemonium. Looking after humans is…beneath you.” Locking eyes with Lilith, who offered a small nod of encouragement, she gained the confidence to continue. “Lilith should be there to aid and counsel the first High Priestess because the Church of Night, our Path of Night, espouses free will. Only the False God forbids and fears women in power. You broke from the False God for a reason. Hell, you helped put a Queen on the throne! Zelda will not betray you for the good of the Coven, and with Lilith at the Academy, the Church of Night will not dare to shirk their loyalty to you again.”

He studied her carefully. She was a fierce little thing. The fire of Hell poured through her veins and she was glorious in her anger. “You will be a formidable Queen, daughter,” He said quietly. “Despite my better judgement…I will…allow it. Lilith may act as your vassal to the Church of Night. She will assist High Priestess Zelda and monitor the safety of your pets.”

“Thank you, Dark Lord.”

“That being said, I should warn you that it will not save her from serving a day in the Pit.”

“But—”

“No!” he shouted, crashing His lips against hers and stealing away whatever argument she had left. “Peace, daughter,” He whispered, pulling away. “There are other matters to deal with before I see to your Coven tonight. My decision is final.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

He paused on the steps of the dais, looking over His shoulder at Lilith coldly. “As your last act as handmaiden to me, Lilith, you can summon the Infernal Court. Tell them Daddy’s back, and He’s extremely angry.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.” She bowed, excusing herself.

“Sabrina,” summoned the Dark Lord, His hand out for her to take. 

Not wanting to draw His ire after challenging him all day, Sabrina joined Him without saying a word. She placed her hand in His, allowing the Dark Lord to guide her up the steps to the throne. He gestured for her to take a seat, but she shook her head.

“You’re the King of Hell, you should be the one to sit on the throne,” she offered, hoping to curry as much favour as she could before they returned to Earth.

“That will come, Sabrina.” He gently pushed her to sit on the throne. “Right now, you are Queen of Hell. Until our marriage, only you will sit in that seat, as befits your station. I will stand at your side as regent.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

“Watch the room, Sabrina,” He ordered. “I’m about to give you your first lesson as a monarch of Hell.”

* * *

As the Lords and Ladies of the Infernal Court flocked into the room, a dark expression stole across Lucifer Morningstar’s face. “My Lords and Ladies of Discord,” He announced, commanding the attention of the room. “Rejoice, for I am returned. Kneel before me, and you might survive the night.”

A rush of discussion swept the room, though several figures immediately dropped to their knees before the Morningstar. Among those prostrate before the throne, Lucifer counted all Grand Generals of His armies, and many more ministers, Lords, and Ladies besides. That was good, it promised many future nights awash in blood, once the farce of a quest the Plague Kings had challenged, ended.

Sabrina noticed among the few who remained standing, the Plague Kings and Prince Caliban were closer to the back of the room. She smiled at the distance. Clearly, Lucifer’s return had not been anticipated, and His name and presence still invoked a measure of fear in them. A few others, whose names escaped her, stood tall before the Dark Lord, their favour given to the pretender Prince.

“With respect, my Lord Lucifer,” offered Beelzebub, Lord of Flies, bowing before the throne, before daring to approach further. “We are in the midst of a quest for the three objects that make up the Unholy Regalia.”

“I am aware,” He replied, feigning boredom as He listened intently to the first worm on His list He intended to execute.

“Then you know Infernal Protocol must be followed. The contest must be seen to the end. Caliban has one item, and two remain unaccounted for: Pontius Pilate’s bowl, and Judas Iscariot’s thirty pieces of silver. Whoever recovers the most items will sit upon the throne of Hell. Not even you can interfere with this quest.” He carefully situated himself in the back amongst his co-conspirators, though Sabrina felt as though their numbers weren’t near as big enough to protect them if the Dark Lord wanted to exact His vengeance.

“I have no intention of interfering,” said the former King of Hell, startling the pretender Prince and his followers. “Beelzebub, I will relish in your cries of agony for centuries to come in the Pit of Despair when my Queen is victorious.”

“You mean, If she is victorious, Lord Lucifer,” countered Caliban, challenging the Dark Lord.

“And you are?”

“This ought to be good,” murmured Lilith, appearing at the right side of the throne, next to Sabrina.

“Lil—” she was silenced when her newly acquired vassal pressed her finger to her lips with a small shake of her head. She gestured for Sabrina to look back to the front of the room, where her father and Caliban were sizing each other up.

“Caliban, Prince of Hell.”

“Prince of Hell,” repeated the Dark Lord. “How can you be Prince of Hell, when I, who am Hell itself, know nothing of you? I have not sired you, Prince of Mud. I have not allowed your life to have meaning. You are nothing, and you will return to nothing once this is finished.”

“Lord Lucifer, you have no authority to speak to—”

“He has my authority, Beelzebub,” interrupted Sabrina.

“You are the Queen—”

“I am the Queen,” she said, standing up from her seat. “I have named Lord Lucifer as my regent in Hell.” Sabrina looked to her father, who watched her intently. He did not like to be spoken for, but her loyalty to Him assuaged any anger He felt at her interruption. He was curious to see how she would handle the Plague King now that she had invited herself to the floor. 

“A regent speaks in the Queen’s absence.”

“Lucifer Morningstar is my intended,” she managed to say without faltering, absently reaching for His hand to support her. Her news silenced the floor, and she faltered momentarily, no longer having to try to carry her voice to the back of the room. “He can speak to you as He pleases. Once we are wed, He will be your King once more.” She felt the Dark Lord raise her hand to His lips, and couldn’t help the small flush that filled her cheeks when He kissed the back.

Caught up in the action, Sabrina lost sight of the floor, where, inside all the quiet and stillness, all Hell had broken loose.

* * *

“That was one Hell of a way to show your hand,” commented Lilith, after the horde had been dismissed. “Felicitations, by the way, when’s the big day?”

“Lilith,” cautioned the Dark Lord.

“You will be scrutinized now more than ever, Dark Lord,” she continued, disregarding His warning as she addressed both Morningstars. “If you’re seen helping Sabrina with the quest, any victories of hers could be rendered forfeit!”

“It’s a good thing you will be acting as her vassal then,” He sneered.

“You mean, your former handmaiden?” she countered. “I’m sure they aren’t suspicious of my being around Sabrina at all. I’m sure they won’t have any strong opinions about my presence at her schools or inside her Church of Night.”

“They can challenge all they like,” dismissed the Dark Lord. “This quest is a formality. We don’t need the Unholy Regalia to secure the throne. Sabrina has only to give the word, and my Grand Generals would smite our opposition from the plains of existence.” 

“Why are we entertaining it then?” asked Sabrina, drawing the attention of both infernal beings to her presence.

“Infernal Protocol,” replied Lilith. “It offers the Lords and Ladies of Discord an illusion they have any say in what goes on in the dealings of Hell.”

“Again, I ask, we’re not smiting Caliban and the Plague Kings because?”

“She’s definitely your kid,” the Mother of Monsters muttered to Lucifer. 

“It took a while to show.”

“Sabrina,” began Lilith, looking for all the world like she was trying to explain astrophysics to a three-year-old. “If everything’s done by the book, and you secure the throne without any assistance from Lucifer or me, then the denizens of Hell will have no grounds to challenge your authority over Pandemonium.”

“Okay,” she agreed, solemnly. “Quest first, smite later.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, if I understand things correctly, you both have a meeting with the Church of Night this evening—no doubt to address the Hell going on in Greendale these days. Might I encourage a change of clothes?” she asked the Dark Lord, pointedly. "Something a little more, Dark Lord, a little less...Harlequin novel?"

His eyes rolled, but He excused Himself from their presence nevertheless. “I’ll leave you two to scheme then, shall I?”

Lilith’s eyes tracked the Dark Lord to one of the halls until His figure had disappeared. Snapping her head back, she locked eyes on Sabrina, her tone probing. “I wasn’t aware you and the Dark Lord were on such good terms these days. Do I foresee a new Passion Play in the Academy’s future?”

Sabrina stuck out her tongue out in reply.

Looking over the contract, she nodded. “That explains a lot—like the lack of warning you gave me that you were going to free Him.”

“I’m sorry, Lilith. Things are terrible in Greendale right now. The Coven lost most of its power, the pagans pretty much declared open season on us…I didn’t know what else to do. I really do believe you should be Queen of Hell. You've more than earned it. It’s not fair—”

“Life’s not fair, little witch,” she said, cutting off the teen.

“Are you mad?”

“At you?”

Sabrina nodded.

“Today I was sentenced to four hundred years in the Pit of Despair. In the span of five minutes, you managed to commute my punishment to one day. I may not be Queen, but I’m not dead either,” she replied. “If I had to pledge fealty to another Morningstar, at least I might stand a chance with you.”


	4. The First Condition Met

Sabrina didn’t ask where Lilith was, having guessed she decided to get her one day in the Pit over and done with. She was standing out front of the Desecrated Church, The Dark Lord, standing at her side. He looked more Himself in a fitted gold jacket, than He had in her mortal father’s clothes. His jacket was quite long, extending past His thighs, and with only one button to hold the top closed, there was a generous amount of skin on display. Paired with the black leather hugging His legs, and His hair a permanent mess of curls, she had to say the devil cleaned up well. If He’d been anyone else, she would even say He was handsome.

“You look like you’re preparing to go to war,” the devil whispered in her ear, His breath warm on her skin in the chill of the evening.

“Aren’t we?” she challenged, facing Him.

His answering laugh was sinful. “Lead the way, daughter. We don’t want to keep the flock waiting.”

She pushed the door open, to silence. All eyes were locked on the doorway where Sabrina and Lucifer made their way in. She saw her aunts and cousin at the front of the church, and tried to keep her focus on them, drowning out everyone around her. There were a few whispers as they walked down the aisle, but nothing loud enough for Sabrina to make out.

“It’s true then,” said Prudence, watching her from the front pew, looking at Sabrina in equal parts relief and pity, as she led the Dark Lord to the front of the Desecrated Church. “The Dark Lord has agreed to favour us once again.”

“That’s what we’re here to discuss,” said Sabrina, uncomfortable with the amount of attention fixed on her and the Dark Lord.

Lucifer showed no such compunction about being the centre of attention. Turning to face the congregation He looked over the mass of faces, both terrified and hopeful, trained on Him. “My wayward flock,” He greeted, patronizing in tone. “You aren’t looking too well. My daughter tells me you have been set upon by the pagans, and that you fear the Old Golds.” He stopped, His pause more for dramatics than anything. “How weak you have become,” He said, derisively. 

“Hey—”

“No, Sabrina,” interrupted Prudence. “What the Dark Lord says is true. We strayed from the Path of Night and have become weaker for it. We are only in the position we are in, because we were open to temptation, and not the good kind.”

“You can all rest easy tonight,” He said, turning to His daughter and continuing His magnanimous charade. “The price for your forgiveness has been paid in full. I am not a merciful Lord, so I will warn those of you before me now: do not think to betray me again. The devotions I will ask of you, after this gross betrayal, will be many and will be great. The price of any future disloyalty, grievances, or challenge to my will…will be death.”

“Praise Satan!” called Prudence.

“Praise Satan! Praise Satan!” repeated those that remained of the Church of Night.

In an act borne of theatrics, Lucifer Morningstar closed His eyes and held out His hands over the church with a look of great concentration. Sabrina couldn’t help rolling her eyes but allowed herself a smile when it became clear her Coven had received their powers back.

“Praise Satan!” shouted Prudence, feeling whole and connected once more to the dark arts.

“Praise Satan!” repeated the Coven, jovial and full of life and magic once again.

Before the Dark Lord could speak, Prudence came into the aisle and bowed deeply before the Dark Lord, dropping to her knees as she looked up to beg. “Dark Lord,” she entreated, “my sisters were cursed by the pagan charlatans on the Hare-Moon. I know I have no right to ask it of you, but I beg you, please! Please, heal them.”

“The price for your sisters’ lives has already been paid,” He replied, snapping His fingers. The stone statue that had been at the back of the church came to life, while Agatha, who had been restrained and tied to the pew Prudence had been sitting in, stopped thrashing, eyes clear for the first time since following Dorcas out into the woods.

Prudence tripped over herself running back to the pew, untangling her sister from her cloth prison and holding her head against her own, the madness finally driven from her. Prudence felt she could cry when Dorcas wrapped herself around her and Agatha, and the Weird Sisters were finally reunited, her family made whole.

“Dark Lord,” addressed Zelda Spellman, kneeling from her seat to address the fallen angel. “What is to be done about the pagans?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” repeated Sabrina, earning the heated gaze of the devil.

“These pagan witches and warlocks are puppets to the Old Gods,” He explained. “There is no point in showing our hand until whatever God they worship reveals itself. Why cut off fingers when you can cut off the head, instead?”

“What should we do in the meantime?” asked Hilda.

“Maintain the ruse that you are without powers for now,” He counselled. “Where you can, follow them. Learn their numbers and strengths. Carefully draw them out of their holes, and when they finally make their move and reveal the Old One they serve, we will crush them, once and for all.”

A resounding cheer filled the church. “Praise Satan!”

He allowed the church to descent into revelry for a spell, before calling the attention of the church to Him once more. “That is not all there is to discuss, Children of the Night.” 

The devil was animated when He spoke to a crowd, Sabrina decided, watching Him as avidly as the rest of the Coven. He made it easy to listen to Him, and even easier to fall for His words when He had the eyes of the world on Him. She suddenly had a frisson of understanding of how Lilith had come to serve Him so many years ago.

“My imprisonment at your hands took its toll on my kingdom,” He told the crowd, playing the martyr before the captive audience. “It burdens me that I will not be here for every step of your campaign against the Old Ones. In my absence, Sabrina will speak for me. She has my…ear. You will all return to the Academy of Unseen Arts and dedicate yourself back to the Path of Night. Zelda Spellman has my blessing to lead the Church of Night as High Priestess, and I will further promise Lilith’s obedience to the Church of Night. She will be sent to you to assist in whatever capacity she can.”

“Praise Satan!” called back the church.

“Go forward, my children. Go forward and spread my will.”

* * *

“I take it you’re returning to Hell?” asked Sabrina, once the last member of her Coven, who wasn’t a Spellman, had left.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on the horde, daughter,” He chided. “If you are here, as your regent, I am required in Hell. If you recall, somebody lost the support of the Infernal Court. Plus, if I am in Pandemonium, they cannot accuse me of colluding with you on your quest for the Unholy Regalia.”

“So you’re not going to help me?”

“I’m absolutely going to help you,” He said, devilish smirk in place. “I’ll have an easier time fixing the quest if I’m in Hell, than if I’m here.”

“All Hail Satan, the great deceiver,” she muttered, forcing a laugh from Him. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised you didn’t make another announcement here tonight.”

He cupped her cheek with His contracted hand, pulling her closer so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I did not want to create any more distractions for you. That news will bode well for some and paint a target on your back to others. I can protect you in Hell, but as strong as I am, my reach does not extend to two places at once. Make no mistake, daughter. I have every intention of taking you as my wife. Once the quest is finished, you are mine and everyone will know.”

“And the pagans?”

He tapped her lip and said, “my word is my bond. You’d feel it in the contract if I intended to break a promise to you.”

“When will I see you next?”

“Careful, daughter. You almost sound as though you care.”

She scoffed, moving to push away from Him.

His hold on her shoulder stopped her. “When the Plague Demons summon you for the second challenge,” He guessed, answering her question. “Otherwise, all you have to do is invoke my name. I may not be there right away, but I will come as quickly as I can, and I will always answer.”

“I didn’t expect you to leave.”

“Enjoy the time you have with your family and friends. We will be reunited soon enough.”

* * *

Sabrina was quiet for the entire walk back to her home, her thoughts so tied up she wasn’t sure what to focus on. She was worried about the threat of the pagans—although with the Coven back to power, she was less worried than she had been. She was worried about her friends. She was worried about the quest. Most of all, she was terrified that her aunt Zelda had yet to speak two words to her since the Dark Lord had taken His leave. 

She allowed her aunt Hilda to fuss over her, the second she walked through the door. Before she knew it, she was corralled in with the rest of the Spellman Clan, around the kitchen table. There was a hot cup of tea and almond biscuits out in front of her, and her aunt nervously petting her shoulder every time she passed her by.

“It’s okay Aunt Hilda—”

“It most certainly is not okay, young lady,” yelled Zelda, furious with her niece as much as herself. She knew she couldn’t really fault her niece for the situation she found herself in. Following the events of the Hare-Moon, they’d had no choice but to appeal to the Dark Lord for assistance. She knew sending Sabrina down to deal with the Dark Lord had been their best option, she just never figured her niece would be silly enough to include herself as payment. 

“Aunt Zelda—”

“Sabrina Spellman, you cannot begin to understand how upset I am with you.”

“I think I have an idea—”

“Don’t you dare get cute with me.”

“Aunties, cousin,” jumped in Ambrose, trying to placate three of the most important women in his life, all of whom were clearly hurting. “As much as I believe I’m going to regret asking, what is going on?”

“Sabrina made a deal with the Dark Lord,” began Zelda, struggling to find the words to continue.

“Yes. Earlier today. After everything that happened with the Hare-Moon, we all agreed it was the best option we had,” supplied Ambrose.

“Yes, love,” agreed Hilda, “but one of the conditions that the Dark Lord asked for His assistance, was your cousin.”

“I-I don’t understand,” he said, looking to Sabrina. “I know I said you didn’t have to tell me the details of the contract if you didn’t want to, cousin, but I think you’d better tell me so I can figure out what’s going on here.”

“I’m getting married, Ambrose,” she said quietly. “I offered the Dark Lord the throne in Pandemonium as an incentive to help us with the pagans and our flagging powers. He wasn’t going to help us for freedom alone,” she explained, seeing the horror on his face. “He would only agree to the proposition if it came…well, with me.”

Zelda began to break down at the table. “My niece,” she cried. “The child-bride of the Dark Lord.”

“No, cousin. You can’t mean to go through with this,” he said, trying to talk reason to her. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already,” she said, sticking her tongue out and trying to stare down at the contract on her tongue to no avail. “The bargain’s struck. All I had to do was even suggest to Father Blackwood that I wasn’t going to free the Dark Lord and my tongue felt like it had caught on fire.”

“You had a strange way of putting it out,” snapped her aunt Zelda, her expression pinched.

“What’s this now?” asked Hilda, confused at the half-conversation going on between her sister and niece.

“Oh nothing,” said Zelda, “just our niece locked in a passionate embrace with a naked Celestial, her tongue halfway down His throat.”

“Hey! He was wearing a towel and His tongue was in my—that’s really not the point,” she said, suddenly exhausted. The whole day was finally catching up to her. “He wasn’t going to help us, Aunties. He was taunting me in the Witch’s Cell, that the only thing I had to offer Him was freedom. I told Him I did have something He wanted and offered Him the throne of Hell. He told me He’d only accept my offer if I came with it.”

“You didn’t have to sell yourself, Sabrina,” said Zelda. “We would have never asked you to do something like that. For all that you may or may not be the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar, you were the daughter of Edward and Diana Spellman. You were…mine, Sabrina. You were raised by your aunt Hilda and I. You didn’t think of us when you agreed to sell yourself to Him. You could have come back. You didn’t have to accept the first offer He made you."

“I’m sorry Auntie,” she said shocked. She hadn’t heard her aunt so despondent and sentimental since the Feast of Feasts and the night Harvey broke up with her.

“I think it’d be best if there was no more discussion on the matter tonight,” said Hilda, watching desperately as her niece and sister closed themselves off in their own grief. “You’re both exhausted, and there’s nothing more we can do about it right now. Everyone get off to bed, and that includes you, dear,” she said to Ambrose. “We’ll get a fresh start at this tomorrow when we all have clearer heads.”

Sabrina and Zelda excused themselves from the kitchen without a word, leaving Ambrose and his auntie alone at the table.

"Well, this is quite the mess," he said, still having trouble believing what he had just heard.

"That it is, my love, that it is.” She was stopped from saying anything further when she heard her niece's scream from her bedroom. "That'll be Father Blackwood chained to her bed. Knew we forgot something!"


	5. Cherries

Sabrina was waiting at her bedroom door, arms crossed, and frowning when Hilda and Ambrose had run up the stairs to meet her.

“You might have warned me that my room was already occupied, auntie.”

“Father Blackwood’s here,” offered Hilda brightly, hoping her niece wasn’t too cross by the development.

“Thank you, auntie,” she said dryly. “Why is he still here, and more importantly, why is he tied down to my bed?”

“Your Aunt Zelda performed the separation spell in your room. He’d been chained to the radiator in your washroom before you left with the Dark Lord. He was making such an awful racket after you left for Hell, that we decided to chain him up to your bed for a break from the noise. He was meant to come to the church tonight to face sentencing from the Dark Lord, but he’d gone so quiet, we…rather forgot he was here.”

“Well, that’s great. What do we do with him now?” she whined, tired, and ready to go to bed and pretend as though the twenty-four hours had never happened.

“Morgue?” offered Ambrose.

An indignant shout from the bed, reminded the three that they weren’t alone. “If you expect to sleep at all tonight, I wouldn’t plan on it,” interjected Faustus from Sabrina’s bed.

“A good sleeping draught would solve that problem,” argued Ambrose, loud enough for Blackwood to hear. “I’ll get started on that draught, and we’ll have him moved down the morgue.”

“Thank you.”

While her aunt Hilda and Ambrose busied themselves with the morgue and sleeping draught, Sabrina frowned at the body occupying her sleep space, who was glaring scornfully back at her and equally annoyed with her presence. “I really can’t deal with this right now,” she moaned angrily. “For Satan’s sake!”

‘ _You called, daughter_?’

She jumped, startled. “Lucifer?” she called out, startling Blackwood when she began looking around the room. “Where are you?”

‘ _In your head, where any good lover should be at night, daughter_ ,’ He said huskily, the words enough to send a small shiver racing down her spine.

“How—” She stopped herself, looking back at Blackwood who was far too interested in what she had going for her to want to share more. ‘ _How are you doing this_?’ she thought back, hoping whatever link they shared worked both ways.

‘ _I am the devil, Sabrina. I have many tricks that my followers aren’t aware of_.’

‘ _And the truth_?’ she countered, unimpressed.

‘ _I have a psychic bond with all of my contracts_.’

Satisfied with His answer, she let it go. ‘ _Why appear now_?’

‘ _I told you, if you invoked my name, I would always answer. You called on Satan, here I am_.’

‘ _You’re going to check in on me every time I say, Satan_?’ she scoffed.

‘ _Or Lucifer, Dark Lord…Daddy. I have many names, Sabrina. Consider them an invitation of sorts_.’

Only moderately creeped out, she thought back, ‘ _it’s weird not being able to see you_.’

He went quiet for a spell. Just when she thought He had left her to her thoughts, His voice reappeared. ‘ _Walk over to your mirror_ ,’ He instructed.

Deciding there was no harm in following His direction this once, she propped herself in front of her mirror, and only gasped slightly when the Dark Lord’s presence appeared before her. His gold jacket was missing from earlier in the evening, leaving Him in nothing but a fitted pair of black leather pants, the top button curiously undone.

“Why are you always missing clothes when I see you?” she asked before she could stop herself.

‘ _To ensure I have your full and captive attention_ ,’ He said with a lecherous grin, watching smugly as her gaze drifted over His body, only returning to meet His eyes when she felt she had something important to say.

“Liar.”

“I do lie, and often, but not about everything.” He looked past her to sudden movement in the bedroom, eyebrow quirked when He recognized who and, more importantly, where he was. “Should I be jealous, daughter?” He asked, casually.

Looking over her shoulder at Father Blackwood, she couldn’t quite quell the shiver of disgust at the thought of what He was suggesting. “Ew, no! I’m going to have to burn those sheets as it stands to wipe away the memory of him being there.”

“The words every father wants to hear,” He praised, taking far too much joy in her sour mood. “Perhaps you care to explain why Father Blackwood is chained to your bed?”

She sighed, feeling her tiredness from the day return, the shock of finding Blackwood in her bed finally worn off. “My aunties put him there,” she explained, turning to frown at Blackwood. “Apparently, he was supposed to come to mass tonight for you to pass judgement on him, but they forgot he was here. Ambrose and Hilda are preparing the morgue for him right now.”

“Taking justice into your own hands?” asked the Father of Sin.

“What? No!” she said exasperated with Him. “They’re preparing a sleeping draught and moving him to the morgue. To sleep. For the night.”

“Pity.”

“What would you have us do?”

“I’m partial to beheadings myself,” He replied, relishing in the silence of His former jailor, “but they’re always over so quickly. There’s burning if you’re a traditionalist,” He continued, ensuring His voice carried loud enough to be heard by the former High Priest, “but the practice is so 17th Century. I’ve found inspiration hearing a man beg for death on the rack. People can up with the most delicious ways to kill themselves when they’re inspired.”

“No!”

“Is that how you really feel?” He asked her coyly, moving closer to her image. He reached out to frame the face of her reflection. “You can’t lie to the devil, Sabrina.”

“History would suggest otherwise, Daddy,” she replied innocently, pulling a laugh from the devil.

“What would you do, if you had the power to pass judgement?” He was prepared to give her anything. It was His opinion that Sabrina required an immersion to Hell. She was still too soft for the perils of Infernal Court right now. She was fiery and stubborn, which He liked, but she had to get stronger if He expected her to survive ruling at His side.

“Probably turn him over to Prudence,” she said, shrugging. “As angry as I am with everything he’s done to our family, I think Prudence might have me beat.”

“Torture then,” He said excitedly, clapping His hands. “Excellent.”

“You asked what I would do,” she said, sadly. “The truth is, while you’re stuck with Infernal Court, Aunt Zelda will have no choice but to summon the Witches Council to pass judgement on Father Blackwood. I’d be surprised if it came to anything more than excommunication.”

“It had better,” He said darkly. “I do not suffer fools or insult well.”

“He’s a man, Lucifer. They only ever burned witches at the stake.”

She didn’t immediately register her own reflection in the mirror, but she just about had a heart attack when a large hand settled on her shoulder.

“You will have your justice, daughter,” the devil whispered in her ear. “So will your aunt and Prudence. It may not come from the Witches Council, and it may not be right away, but you will have it.” She felt His lips slide down the left side of her neck, His finger pulling away the white collar of her turtleneck to access more of her sensitive skin. While she expected it, the jolt from His tongue tracing lines against the flushed skin of her throat caused her to back further into His embrace, unsteady on her feet.

“W-what did you do?” she whispered, holding His contracted hand in a vice grip.

“I made a promise,” He said, voice deeper than before. He turned the hand she held over, for her to look at the small seal on His wrist. “You and yours will have your revenge. I will make it so.”

“What do you want in return?”

“Think about me tonight,” He whispered in her ear, nipping at her lobe, and sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. His presence vanished the next second, and not expecting to lose her support, Sabrina landed hard on her ass.

She stood up with a grimace, brushing invisible dirt from her cheerleading outfit, and scowling at the image of Father Blackwood sitting up on her bed. She was about to tell him where to go, when his eyes moved pointedly to her door—her open bedroom door, where she could see her Aunt Hilda and cousin Ambrose, standing ramrod in the doorway, expressions frozen in shock. The glass jar of Hilda’s homebrewed sleeping draught shook in her hand. “Auntie,” she said, panicked.

“Sleeping draught’s ready,” she said in a tiny voice.

* * *

She double-checked the straps holding Father Blackwood to the operating table after her cousin and auntie excused themselves to bed. Neither of them had said a peep as they set to work, although Sabrina could feel their eyes on her more often than not. A few times, one of them would open their mouth to say something but had shut it just as quick, when the words wouldn’t come out. She decided when they both went upstairs that she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she was certain there’d be no more surprises tonight.

"I know what you did,” said Faustus, his thoughts slowing as the draught began to take control of his body.

“I’ve done a lot of things you don’t agree with,” she said caustically, rolling her eyes as she thought about finally turning in for the night. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“You…you made a pact with the Dark Lord,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You were there, Father Blackwood,” she said darkly. “That’s hardly news.”

“Another one,” he said, his smile unnerving her. “Do the others know?” he asked drowsily. “Young Nicholas Scratch? Your human pets? Are they aware you’ve given yourself to the Dark Lord?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, feeling his eyes begin to close. “Your Dark Lord is not strong enough to weather what’s coming, girl, and you’ve both given me exactly what I need to walk away from tomorrow’s trial.”

“What are you saying?" 

A soft snore came from the operating table.

"Come on! You love to hear yourself talk! Wake up!” She tried to shake him awake, but the draught had done its work. Father Blackwood would be out cold for the rest, or rather, what remained of the night. She tried to put his words to bed, but she felt an impending sense of dread at whatever tomorrow might bring. Leaving her prisoner to rest, she returned to her room and finally crawled into bed, hoping for a few hours of oblivion, before she had to jump back on the roller coaster her life had turned into.

* * *

Sabrina woke up in her dream at the dead of night, standing in the same clearing where she’d taken her Dark Baptism, the moon full and clear overheard. A trance fell over her, as she stared up at the sky, the light from the moon reaching something deep inside her and calling at her magic in a way that spells and potions only teased. It made her skin feel hot, hot in a way that thrilled and scared her. She could feel her magic coursing just beneath the surface and moaned as it seemed to ebb and flow powerfully with the pull of the moon, forcing her to reach up to the sky for release.

Two large hands appeared on her sides, tempering her heat and allowing her to breathe as the magic continued to pour over her. She was in ecstasy as those hands nimbly divested her of her nightgown, replacing the abrasive fabric with the soft whisper of skin on skin. Everywhere they touched was like water to a parched desert. She brought his hands up to cup her breasts, and arched her neck back into the hard chest of her companion, nearly undone by how sensitive she had become.

Her legs lost the strength to bear her, forcing her saviour to take her into his arms. The rapture continued to wash over her, forcing her eyes to shut as magic laid siege to her body in the most delicious way. She barely felt the moment her back made contact with the cold stone that once held the Book of the Beast. Her legs hung limp off the stone, until her companion took a thigh in each hand, massaging the skin as his mouth descended to her centre.

Her eyes opened and she screamed as the world exploded all around her, her hands locked desperately in her companion’s dark curls as he feasted hungrily between her legs. Her gaze came to rest on a golden hand clutching her thigh, a devil’s mark with her name seared into the skin slowly coming into focus. It should mean something, but her brain was still tingling from all the sensations washing through her.

A forked tongue circled her clit, gathering the nectar she’d already spilt, and as the moon began to slowly disappear from the sky she felt one last crescendo build inside her. She begged and pleaded for release, crying the name of Satan until fairy lights danced behind her eyes and the Dark Lord buried His tongue inside her once again.

She panted on the table; her head finally lifted from the fog of passion that had consumed her, though all energy had been wrung from her body. Her limbs felt heavy, but she managed to lift her head when she felt a kiss pressed softly to her core. She shivered looking down into the eyes of Lucifer Morningstar, His lips still wet from their previous devotions.

With her eyes still glued to Him, He reached a hand up to thumb the excess from His lips, before sucking the digit into His mouth. He moaned, watching her struggle not to react, but she couldn’t fully suppress the answering whimper. “Just like the Garden,” He whispered, still on His knees before her.

“What?” she whispered confused.

“Mortals have the story wrong,” He whispered, slowly running a finger up her slit and taking it into His mouth. “The fruit from the Garden. The fruit of sin was never an apple.”

She strained to hear Him. “What was it?”

He bit the inside of her thigh and sighed, pulling Himself to a stand between her legs. He reached down for Sabrina, pulling her to rest against His chest, her legs hanging useless on either side of him. He tipped her face up to His and kissed her softly on the mouth. Toying with a rebellious piece of moon-white hair, He couldn’t resist bending down to whisper. “Cherries.”


	6. The Witch Trials, pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****Edited*****

Sabrina felt like she’d run a marathon when consciousness finally took her. Her heart was racing, her skin damp with perspiration, her legs felt like rubber when she tried to move them, and if her thighs were tacky with her own making, she didn’t bother putting any more thought as to why. Stewing uncomfortably in her own sweat, she couldn’t get over how real it had all felt. She remembered standing in the clearing, basking in the glow of the moon, her powers crashing over her, and then spiralling into oblivion…along with other…activities that didn’t warrant further consideration.

She took to unsteady feet, dropping her nightgown as she stood in front of her mirror and tried to see if anything looked or felt different, but all that reflected back was the same Sabrina. She touched the small seal on her neck and was nearly bowed over with pleasure. It reminded her of the dream, when she could feel His hands on her thighs, and tongue buried inside her.

Tearing her hand away from her neck as though it were on fire, she decided a shower was in order. She needed to wash away the last twenty-four hours and prepare herself for the possibilities of what the day might have to offer. Aunt Zelda would likely be summoning the Witches Council, which meant dealing with whatever cryptic warning Father Blackwood had given her, which, in turn, meant she would be seeing the Church of Night, which meant Nick. If that didn’t take all her time, she still had to see how her mortal friends were faring with the pagan dilemma.

* * *

“You’re up awfully early, Sabrina,” greeted Ambrose, looking up from his coffee to study his cousin. Her eyes looked tired as she scanned the table, pouring herself a coffee before grabbing a fresh turnover from the pile Hilda had just finished cooking.

“Mind the filling, darling,” called Hilda, pulling another fresh batch of pastries from the oven. “They’ve just come from the oven.”

Starving, she bit a large chunk out of the pastry, the tart fruit at the centre of the turnover helping to wake her up as much as the coffee.

“These are delicious, Aunt Hilda!” she said, scarfing down the rest, before helping herself to a second and third.

“You haven’t made cherry turnovers in years,” agreed Ambrose, helping himself to the pile, stopping mid-bite when his cousin began to choke.

Hilda was behind her in a second. “I hadn’t planned on it. You see, it was the darndest thing,” she said, thumping Sabrina on the back. “Our little dwarf cherry tree started flowering this morning and producing cherries after years of not bearing much of anything. I couldn’t let them go to waste, so…cherry turnovers. I think I’ll make some tarts and pies with the rest.”

Sabrina coughed up the piece of pastry and stared at it as though it had somehow done her grave insult. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” she said, pushing her plate away, face enflamed.

“What is with all the commotion this morning?” asked Zelda, coming to join her family in the kitchen.

“Hilda made cherry turnovers. One of the pastries nearly killed Sabrina,” explained Ambrose, taking another bite of his breakfast, and watched fascinated as his cousin looked everywhere but the pile of turnovers on the table, a small flush still present on her face.

“Yes, well, at the risk of choking, you might want to eat a little more quickly,” warned Zelda, helping herself to the pile on the table. “The Witches Council will be convening at the Academy of Unseen Arts at 9:00 o’clock to determine what’s to be done with Faustus. I expect we’ll be having a trial sometime later today at the Desecrated Church.”

“I’ll have Father Blackwood tidied up and ready to go in twenty,” offered Ambrose, excusing himself from the table.

“Is there anything I can do to help, Auntie?” asked Sabrina, peace-offering extended.

“I need the rest of the Coven assembled at the Academy, and several rooms prepared for the Witches Council,” replied Zelda, peace-offer accepted. “If you can tend to the Academy, we should be in good shape for when the Witches Council arrive.”

* * *

Sabrina walked through the doors to the Academy of Unseen Arts and immediately set herself on task to locate the Weird Sisters. If anyone was going to be able to rally the school in time, it was Prudence Blackwood. She started by heading for the girls’ dorms. She stopped in the hall, just outside the door, hearing her name mentioned among a few raised voices in the dorm.

“I heard Sabrina sold her soul, and that’s why the Dark Lord is looking after us again,” said one of the witches Sabrina vaguely recalled as Elspeth.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Prudence. “Sabrina’s a witch. We all are. We pledge ourselves to the Dark Lord when we sign the Book of the Beast. She’s had her Dark Baptism, so He’d have no use for her soul.”

“She’s a half-breed though. Her soul’s half-mortal—”

“And you’re a half-wit, yet here you still are.”

“What about Nicholas Scratch?” asked another witch Sabrina was not familiar with.

“What about him?” asked Prudence.

“You saw how sick he was. Maybe Sabrina offered him to the Dark Lord?” There were a few murmurs of agreement in the room.

“She hasn’t even come to see him yet,” said another.

“I can’t speak for Sabrina, but she can certainly speak for herself,” snapped Prudence, catching Sabrina off-guard. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Spellman. If you have something to say, you can bring it to the circle.”

Taking a deep breath, Sabrina took the final few steps into the dorm, where she was sad to see a number of her peers looking at her with a mix of fear and suspicion—except Prudence, she always just looked annoyed to see her.

“I was looking for you all,” she said awkwardly, twisting her hands in a fit of nerves, as their silence reigned on. “The Witches Council are coming here today. They plan on reviewing Father Black—” Sabrina stopped herself from saying his name, watching Prudence flinch as her father was brought up. “They plan on having a review for the former High Priest,” she corrected. “We need some of the private chambers cleaned up for their arrival. I was hoping I could count on some of you to help.”

“Will the Dark Lord be coming?” asked one of the girls from the back of the room.

“What? No,” she quickly answered. “The Dark Lord has His hands full in Hell. He’s not going to insert Himself into witch affairs.”

“The Dark Lord said you had His ear.”

“He’s not going to be there,” assured Sabrina.

“Did He tell you that?” asked another one of the girls.

“No—”

“So you don’t know,” prompted the last witch who spoke.

“Girls!” interrupted Prudence. “Regardless of the Dark Lord’s presence, the Witches Council _will_ be here soon. We will not let the reputation of the Academy come into question. I want the statue of the last High Priest refashioned in the image of our Dark Lord. Once that is taken care of, everyone can report to the Assembly Room.”

The girls rushed out of the dorm, giving Sabrina a wide berth. When it was just the Weird Sisters and Sabrina, Prudence continued. “My sisters and I will see to the quarters. Do you know if the Infernal Three will be making an appearance as well?” she asked casually, her real question along the lines of whether or not there’d be an execution.

“I’m not too sure, Prudence,” replied Sabrina. “Zelda seems to think the review will result in a trial, but where it goes from there, only the Council knows.”

“Then we will go ahead and prepare for one, just in case. Praise Satan!”

“Praise Satan,” repeated her sisters. Dorcas and Agatha seemed to sense their sister wanted a moment alone with the youngest Spellman and excused themselves to their duties.

“You don’t think anything will come of this, do you?” asked Prudence, taking a seat on one of the beds.

“I’m not confident in it,” admitted Sabrina. “Father Blackwood was the High Priest to the Church of Night for a long time. He has friends. There could be more members to his Judas Society that we don’t know about.”

“The Dark Lord—”

“The Dark Lord asked me yesterday what I would do, if I had the power to sentence Father Blackwood.”

“Did He now?” asked the older witch. “Pray tell, what did you have to say.”

“I told Him I would put you in charge.” Sabrina shrugged, enjoying the shock on her rival’s face. “I told Him that for all the grievances my family had with your father, that no one suffered more under him than you.”

“Will He not intervene?” asked Prudence. “If the Witches Council does nothing? I know we are not the only ones with grievances against my father.”

Sabrina was torn in her answer. She knew for a fact, that Lucifer would not be taking part in the review and trial of Father Blackwood. On the other hand, she thought about the mark hidden safely on her neck. “I…I—”

“Yes, Sabrina.”

“I made a deal with Him, Prudence,” she said, finally.

“I know that.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “everybody knows that you made a deal with the Dark Lord. He said as much, _last night_ , when He returned our powers to us.”

“Yes…and no.”

“Spit it out, Sabrina,” barked Prudence.

“I made a second deal with the Dark Lord,” she revealed, hoping her newfound confidante wouldn’t turn around and bite her in the ass.

The older witch was clearly not expecting to hear that. “Aren’t we full of surprises.” Having no more patience for half-truths from the young witch, she pushed Sabrina to continue. “What were you after this time Spellman?”

“Revenge,” she answered honestly. “The Dark Lord promised vengeance on Father Blackwood for you, Zelda, and me. He agreed that nothing might be handled today, or even soon, but that He made a vow that He would ensure Father Blackwood suffered for all he did one day.”

“That’s pretty vague, Sabrina,” she said eventually, “but, _one day_ is better than never at all.”

* * *

The five great warlocks that made up the governing body for all witches and warlocks were late.

With Father Blackwood having been reacquainted with the Witches Cell, Sabrina, her Aunties, her cousin Ambrose, and Prudence had nothing left to do but sit quietly in the Dean’s Office, waiting to be informed of the Council’s arrival.

“They said they’d be here for nine, didn’t they Sister Spellman?” asked Prudence, watching the red-headed witch pace anxiously in her father’s former office. “All the students are waiting in the Assembly Hall.”

“Yes. Thank you, Prudence,” she said, stopping her march to prop herself up against the desk. “When I spoke to them this morning, they told me they would be here for nine. I haven’t received word that things have changed.”

A small knock came at the door, earning a look from the room. Quentin Corwin poked his head through the shut door, before walking the rest of his body through the dark wood. He bowed to Zelda. “The warlocks you were waiting for are here, Sister Spellman.”

“Thank you, Quentin. You can go back and join the others now if you like?”

“Thank you, Miss.” He said, disappearing.

This time, Zelda expected the knock and crossed the room to let in the five warlocks that made up the Witches Council: Father Carpenter, Father Clive, Father Pickingill, Father Abremelin, and the newly appointed Father Crowley.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sister Spellman,” offered Father Carpenter. “We had matters to discuss between ourselves in regard to your Father Blackwood, before attending to the review.”

“That’s quite all—”

“With Father Blackwood, accused as he is, am I to understand there is no current High Priest to lead the Church of Night?” asked Father Clive, interrupting Zelda.

“There is no High Priest,” agreed Zelda, “but I—”

“That is most unfortunate,” said Father Clive, once again cutting of Zelda before she could finish speaking. “In trying times like these, a Coven needs a good leader. Frankly, I am surprised to hear all this news about Faustus. I remember him to be very devout to the Path of Night.”

“Father Clive,” addressed Zelda crossly. “Faustus Blackwood is guilty of the murdering of witches, plural, and warlocks, plural. He turned his back to the Path of Night when he attempted to execute his congregation. There can be no sympathy for what he has done—”

“That is what we are here to discuss,” said Father Clive, placing a hand on Zelda’s shoulder as though explaining to a small child. “We will decide what has happened, and how, or if, it is to be atoned.”

Tempers flared in the Dean’s Office, though no one dared to speak up at the flagrant disregard displayed by Father Clive, and his nodding brethren.

“Now, we will speak to the Academy and ascertain what has happened here. Once a ruling is made, we will begin the search to appoint a new High Priest—”

Sabrina couldn’t bite her tongue any longer. “The Church of Night has a leader!” she said, cutting off Father Clive, with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Sabrina!” warned Zelda, not wanting to incite any more trouble for her family.

“No, Auntie,” she said, angrily. “You were appointed by the Dark Lord Himself to be High Priestess—”

“High Priestess?” scoffed Father Clive, earning a collective chuckle from his brothers. “There is no such office in our Churches of Darkness. You do the Dark Lord great dishonour by lying—”

“I am _not_ lying. The Dark Lord—”

“The Dark Lord would not hold with such a liberal tongue, young witch,” snapped Father Clive. “You would do well to remember that in the presence of your Witches Council. We interpret the will of our Dark Lord. His will is spoken through us, His prophets, as has been since He saw fit to bestow His power on our people. Tell me witch, who are you that pretends to speak for His most unholy?”

‘ _Go on, tell him you’re the Queen of Hell_ ,’ urged the devil, tickled by her anger with the elder warlocks. ‘ _Tell them you’re Daddy’s future wife_.’

‘ _Not helping_ ,’ she said annoyed.

‘ _You haven’t answered him yet, Sabrina,_ ’ He said mockingly. ‘ _These are my—what was his description? Right, these are my prophets. They speak for me_. _You have to answer something_.’

“My name is Sabrina Spellman—”

‘ _Morningstar_ —”

“I don’t pretend to speak for the Dark Lord,” she continued, ignoring her father’s ongoing commentary. “He came to us yesterday at the Desecrated Church and spoke to the Coven. He named Zelda—”

“I’ve heard enough,” silenced Father Clive. “We will have a review of Faustus Blackwood. Once we are satisfied with what we have learned, we will decide the fate of the Church of Night. I will hear no more of this business of High Priestesses.”

“Of course, Your Most Dishonourable,” jumped in Zelda, before Sabrina could continue her tirade against the Council. “The students are already assembled. What remains of the Church are in attendance as well. Father Blackwood is in the Witch’s Cell. Prudence, here, will guide you,” she said, sharing a look with the other witch.

Father Clive had nothing further to say and walked out of the office, his brothers close behind him.

“The Patriarchy is alive and well,” spat Prudence. “I better not leave their Lordships waiting too long for fear of excommunication.”

Silence fell upon the Spellman family once Prudence took her leave.

Sabrina looked at her aunt then, surprised that all the fight in her had disappeared. “This isn’t over,” she said, unable to keep silent any longer. “You might not want to argue with them, but I will. I know the Coven is important to you, Auntie Zee. You practically are the Church of Night. I won’t let them take that away from you!”

Zelda was touched by her niece’s words, but terrified of the consequences the Council could exact on the youngest Spellman. Still, she taught her niece that she could be anything she wanted to be growing up, and made the decision to let her turn on her heel to march out the door without trying to stop her.

“Where are you going, darling?” called Hilda, looking at Zelda to do something, before running to the door to watch as her niece thunder down the hall.

“To get a second opinion!” she yelled back. “I’ll meet you in the Assembly.”

* * *

The girls’ washroom was the first place Sabrina came upon that was empty.

‘ _Dark Lord_?’

‘ _I heard_ ,’ He said. ‘ _Let Daddy take care of everything_.’

* * *

The review went about as well as expected. Ultimately, the Council felt as though any sentence would have to come from the Unholy Trivium. By Witch Law, Father Blackwood was guilty of the murder of other witches and warlocks and deviation from the Path of Night, until proven innocent, and only Witch Law could judge him. Infernal Court was scheduled to sit at midnight at the Desecrated Church.

“There is another matter I wish to discuss with the Coven,” added Father Carpenter, once the Council’s verdict had been brought before the Academy. “It is a matter of great importance. The Church of Night is currently without a High Priest.”

Sabrina fumed in her seat, her Aunt Zelda's hand on her shoulder to remind her that a public assembly was not the place to challenge them.

“I believe I might be able to help with that,” offered Lilith, stepping into the Assembly. She offered a quick wink to Sabrina, who had not expected to see her so quickly after her own sentencing to the Pit. "The Dark Lord sends His regards."

“We are in session, Witch. Who might you be that addresses the Council so familiarly?” called Father Clive.

“I’m the Mother of Demons, Warlock,” she replied, standing firm at the centre of the room. “I am Lilith, the Dawn of Doom, first wife to Adam, saved from despair by a fallen angel. I call myself Madame Satan in his honour.”

An excitement built up in the crowd, hearing her name.

“Lilith?” scoffed Father Clive. “How are we to know it truly is you? She has not walked this Earth for many centuries and has worn many faces. Satan’s concubine—”

“Ah ah!” she interrupted. “ _Former_ concubine,” she corrected. “Would you like to see my green face?”

“Mother of Monsters,” greeted Father Carpenter. “What help do you offer the Witches Council?”

“I offer answers,” she replied. “Specifically, _His_ answers. The Dark Lord favours Zelda Spellman as High Priestess of this Coven. He has chosen her personally to lead His Church of Night.”

To be continued in the next chapter


	7. A Heavy Heart

Lilith might as well have asked the Witches Council to convert to the False God’s teachings with the way they reacted.

“There is no such position in the Churches of Darkness!” shouted Father Clive. “Who are you really, harlot? Lilith knows her place at her Master’s side. She would not presume to meddle in the affairs of the Dark Lord’s—”

“Prophets?” she supplied, watching his face tighten, and a few of the less vocal warlocks begin to titter behind him. “Yes, the Dark Lord heard all about your position at His left hand, so to speak. Our Dark Lord is a vainglorious one, Father Clive. He does not like it when people assume to know His mind. They tend to suffer short lives. He has allowed you and your Council to act as His adjudicators in witch and warlock affairs, because it _amuses_ Him. I would urge you _not_ to challenge His will.”

“How dare—”

She opened her mouth, and a voice that did not belong on the plains of Earth erupted from her. The sound was so sinister and vile that many in attendance covered their ears in pain. Lilith watched indifferent, as Father Clive erupted into flames and disintegrated to dust at the front of the assembly.

“Does anyone else have an opinion on what the Dark Lord desires?” she asked innocently.

“N-No, Mother of Monsters,” assured Father Carpenter, staring at the charred remains of his fellow councilman.

“Good,” she said, a vapid smile in place. “Good. I was hoping you’d come to see things my way. You can see to Sister Spellman’s appointment to High Priestess in her office. I think we can safely say the Assembly is over. Run along kiddies,” she said, shooing the students. “It’s time for the adults to sit down and chat.”

* * *

Sabrina was dismissed along with the other students, when she arrived at her Aunt Zelda’s office, only to have Lilith stop her at the door. “Might I suggest you use this time to check in on your little humans?” she said, seconds before closing the office door in her face.

She blinked a few times at the abrupt dismissal.

“You too, cousin?” asked Ambrose, propped up against the wall a few feet from her, watching his cousin carefully. “Apparently Madam Satan has a few more things in store for us.”

“So it would seem.”

“She looks astonishingly well considering her betrayal to the Dark Lord, and I can’t help but notice you don’t appear all that surprised to see her,” he noted, watching her squirm under his attention.

“Lucifer was going to have her thrown into the Pit of Despair for four hundred years. I might have suggested she come to the Academy as an aid to Auntie Zelda and the Church of Night.”

“ _Lucifer_ , is it?” he commented casually, watching his cousin’s face avidly. There was something _more_ going on between the Dark Lord and his cousin, something bigger than whatever deal they had first brokered. “How many more deals have you made with the Dark Lord, Sabrina?” he asked seriously.

“Ambrose?”

“You stormed off earlier, saying you were going to get a ‘second opinion’ with regard to our auntie. All of a sudden, who else, but Lilith shows up pledging the Dark Lord’s support to Zelda. Sabrina, she’d be devastated if you sold another piece of yourself for her to be High Priestess.”

“I didn’t! Ambrose, you have to believe me,” begged Sabrina. Looking at it through her cousin’s perspective, it seemed highly likely that she had done just that, but she didn’t want to lie…at least not about that. “I would never do that to Aunt Zee.”

“I can tell you’re keeping secrets again, cousin.”

“I didn’t make a deal with the Dark Lord for Zelda’s appointment to High Priestess. I didn’t know Lilith would show up today either,” she said honestly. “I did speak to the Dark Lord earlier,” she admitted. “I was so mad at the council for dismissing Aunt Zee like that, I wanted…no, I had to know if He agreed with the Witches Council too.”

“I guess we know our answer,” said Ambrose, relief coursing through him to hear his impetuous cousin, who was a natural-born conductor for trouble, had not given more of herself away.

Sabrina traced her fingers along her neck absently, where the last seal had been drawn into her skin. She almost felt guilty for withholding the fact she had made another deal, but she just wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else, yet. She had owed it to Prudence. She wasn’t sure how the rest of her family was going to react.

“I’m going to check in with Harvey, Roz, and Theo. Aunt Hilda said Harvey came around the house the other day for me, something to do about Roz and her having magic-induced chills.”

“Be careful,” warned her cousin. “While we might have our powers back now, the pagans are still an ongoing problem. You have enough on your plate without adding them to the mix.”

“I will.”

* * *

Sabrina stared at the stone figure of Roz, heartbroken. She’d been so focused on her Coven and the Dark Lord, that she’d completely forgotten about the friends she had once considered walking the Path of Light for.

“Thanks for coming, ‘Brina,” said Harvey, sitting on the arm of the couch currently holding Roz. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“How long?” asked Sabrina. “How long has she been like this?”

“The night we snuck into the carnival,” answered Theo, standing next to Harvey, a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“She went into the snake charmer's tent on her own to see if she could find something to use her cunning on. Theo and I were standing guard outside when she screamed. We ran her back to the garage as fast as we could. She couldn’t get warm, ‘Brina. She started talking about how cold she was and was completely overtaken by chills. When we couldn’t warm her up, I went around to your place...but, you weren’t there.”

“Poor Roz,” she said, kneeling in front of the petrified form of her friend. “I wish you guys would have come to me sooner, before trying to sneak into the carnival on your own. Guys, those people are bad news. They’re pagans.”

Two blank expressions stared back at her.

“They celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“Those are Pilgrims, Harvey,” corrected Theo.

“They’re like witches, but from another time,” explained Sabrina. “Some of them have powers, and others don’t, but they’re all dangerous. You should let me take care of them from now on.”

“Like you’re taking care of Roz?”

“That’s not fair, Harvey. They did the same thing to one of the girls from my Coven, Dorcas.”

“Is she okay?” asked Theo, his concern tearing at Sabrina all the more, knowing the Dark Lord had returned the redhead to normal within a few hours of being turned to stone.

“She is now,” admitted Sabrina, trying to pick her words carefully. She wasn’t sure how either of them would take the news that the Dark Lord had been set free, and was the reason that Dorcas was still one-third of the Weird Sisters. She certainly wasn’t prepared to find out tonight.

“That’s great!” exclaimed Theo. “Then you can save Roz!”

She had been quiet for too long, she realized, when Harvey stood up and walked away from her.

“I don’t know what kind of magic was used on her, Theo,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t the one who lifted the spell off Dorcas. I could wind up killing Roz or making the spell worse, or permanent. I’m not saying I won’t try,” she promised before either boy could argue with her. “I’m just saying I need a little more time. There’s a lot going on right now, more than I can explain—”

“Your stuff is _always_ more important, ‘Brina,” argued Harvey. “We’ve all been to literal Hell and back for you. Can’t you speak to this person who cured your friend? Ask them to do the same thing for Roz?”

"You don't understand, Harvey," she said quietly. "I owe this person a lot already—”

"Did you turn his brother into a zombie too?"

"Harvey!" Sabrina pictured Lucifer’s face in her mind and swallowed. “I…I can try,” she said eventually, “but I still need some time.”

“It’s not like we have much choice,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see you around Sabrina.”

“Harvey!” shouted Theo, as Harvey turned his back and walked out of the garage, storming back into the house without another glance.

Sabrina felt her heart break a little bit more.

“Don’t take it to heart, Sabrina,” urged Theo, coming to wrap an arm around his sullen friend. “Harvey’s just worried about Roz. He’ll come around. He knows you love us, and you want to help.”

“I hope so, Theo,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Theo felt sorry for Sabrina, she’d had a tough year and their friends weren’t making it any easier for her. First there was the fact that her father was the King of Hell and wanted to enslave the Earth and make her His Queen. Then, she and Harvey had broken up. Harvey began dating Roz. Sabrina started dating Nick. Nick got himself possessed by her father. “How about you come to Cerberus Books with me?” he asked, wanting to spread out their visit a little longer. He felt like Sabrina needed to be reminded that her friends loved her too. “I’m meeting my friend Robin there for a drink,” he offered, squeezing her shoulders.

“Is this Robin…a special friend?” asked Sabrina, a small smile forming on her face, her spirit already lifting.

“You can tell me, after he leaves,” he said, earning a laugh from the sullen witch.

* * *

Robin was already sitting in one of the booths when Theo and Sabrina walked into the store. He waved shyly at the duo, when Theo threw himself into the seat across from him and let Sabrina slide into the empty space beside her friend.

“I hope you don’t mind the extra company?” asked Theo. “Sabrina was visiting, and I wasn’t ready to lose her company just yet.”

“Not at all,” he said, greeting Sabrina. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak more at the carnival.”

“Are Harvey and Roz joining us too?” he asked curiously. “I can see if we can get one of the larger tables—”

“No, that’s alright, Robin,” rushed Sabrina. “They’re…having a date night.”

“How about Nick?”

“He’s…out of Town.”

The night could have stagnated there easily, but Theo was determined to make the best of the evening with his friend and crush, and by the end of their drinks, the conversation had managed to flow for two hours without getting too awkward for the three.

By the time they got up to leave, even Sabrina could admit she’d had a good time and was feeling better.

“He seems nice, Theo,” said Sabrina, after Robin had parted ways with them along their walk home. “I can see why you like him.”

“I think I’m going to see if he’s free tomorrow,” said Theo, smiling brightly and laughing when his witch friend bumped his shoulder with her own.

* * *

At the other end of town, Robin walked through the front gates of Professor Carcosa’s Traveling Carnival and Phantasmagoria with his own smile. Stepping into Pan’s tent, he announced, “I think I might have found another virgin sacrifice. One of the Satanic witches, Sabrina Spellman.”


	8. The Witch Trials, pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the lovely words of support for this work. Your comments have been a bright spot in writing this piece. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Sabrina walked into the Desecrated Church and joined her family and Lilith at the front. Most of the Academy and Coven were already present, including Father Blackwood. He sat poised in his seat near the head of the church, hands folded in his lap, with an air of nonchalance.

“You’re running a little late, Sabrina,” scolded her Aunt Zelda.

“Roz has been petrified,” she replied, watching as Zelda purse her lips and accept the excuse. Knowing how much the mortals meant to her, Zelda supposed it would only be natural for her niece to take the news poorly. “Harvey was upset and…it didn’t go well.”

“Poor thing,” whispered Hilda.

“Are you alright?” asked Zelda, watching her niece with a frown. “I don’t like it when that mortal boy of yours makes you cry. He’s been doing that a lot recently.”

“I will be, Aunt Zee,” she said quietly. “Once this trial is over, I’ll do some study into petrification, and see if there’re any spells I can do to reverse the effects on Roz,” she lied easily.

The Unholy Trivium’s arrival stopped any further conversation.

Lilith took Zelda’s position before the court, unable to persecute her own husband before the Coven, as per Witch Law.

“We the profane, gather here tonight in this sacrilegious court to serve the Dark Lord’s justice,” said Lilith. “Terrible crimes have been committed against our master and saviour.

The demoness allowed a few members to yell their praises to the Dark Lord, to punctuate the grievances against Blackwood before continuing.

“Faustus Blackwood stands accused before the Infernal Three, guilty of murder and breaking his pledge to the Dark Lord.”

The infernal beings at the front communed as one. “Faustus Blackwood, stand!”

“When Faustus Blackwood is confirmed guilty, his life will be struck from him and he will burn for six hundred and sixty-six years in the Pit, as the Dark Lord's pleasure demands,” said Lilith, a monstrous smile on her face.

“Accused,” addressed the infernal Bailiff, “how plead you?”

“Guilty, your Dishonours,” said the former High Priest, head held high before the court.

“That was easy,” muttered Hilda, standing up to leave as a few members of the Coven began shouting their displeasure with Father Blackwood and demanding their retribution in blood.

“Faustus Blackwood,” said the Mother of Monsters, “you will be escorted outside of this most unholy Desecrated Church to where the Greendale Thirteen were hanged. There you will burn—”

“I reject the authority of this court over my sentence,” added Faustus, his voice loud and commanding over Lilith’s, and riling the onlookers into a frenzy.

“Disorder in the court!” shouted the Infernal Three.

“It’s never that easy,” muttered Hilda, settling back down beside her sister.

“You have already pled guilty to the offenses accused of you,” said Lilith. “You have been confirmed guilty. There is nothing more to say.”

“That is where you are wrong, Mother of Monsters. Sentencing has already been passed,” he replied, a terrible grin on his face. “Why I bore witness to the event myself.”

“Explain yourself, Faustus,” ordered the three.

“I humble myself before you tonight and ask for my release.”

There Church of Night began to grow listless in the back, shouting for Father Blackwood’s execution.

“You are guilty, Child of Night,” said the Three. “You will face your sentence—”

“I cannot be punished twice for the same crime, your Disgraces. You see, the Dark Lord has already passed judgement on me,” he said, turning his head to lock eyes on Sabrina Spellman, “and I have a witness.” Every head in the church turned to stare at the blonde witch, including her two aunts.

“Sabrina Spellman,” said Lilith, coming to stand in front of her pew. “I believe you’ve been summoned to speak.”

Sabrina walked up to the stand hesitantly, wary of all the eyes boring into her as she looked out onto her Coven. She remembered that Father Blackwood had hinted she had somehow secured his release, and with the way he was watching her now, she felt a sense of dread settling over her.

“Last night, the Dark Lord made a visit to you,” he said, earning a few gasps from the crowd. “Do you deny it?”

Her throat closed.

“Answer the question,” ordered the Unholy Trivium as one.

“You’re going to have to speak up, Sabrina,” said Lilith, when it looked as though the young witch would remain silent.

“No,” she managed to say, looking at her aunties.

“No?” pressed Faustus, watching the young witch squirm with unholy glee.

“No, I don’t deny it,” she said, as her audience began to whisper amongst themselves in the crowd.

“The Dark Lord visiting Sabrina in the middle of the night is hardly an excuse to demand release for your crimes, Faustus,” said Lilith, trying to take back control of the room. “The Dark Lord seeks devotions from all of His followers. Even as a half-witch, Sabrina owes her allegiance to the Dark Lord and must answer when summoned.”

“It was no devotion He took from Miss Spellman, demoness,” said Father Blackwood, approaching the stand. “No, He made you a promise, didn't He Sabrina? A promise of revenge for you, your aunt, and my daughter. He promised you my life. A promise He sealed into your own skin.”

His accusation was a slap in the face. She looked to her aunties, who watched the spectacle with horrified expressions. This was definitely not the way she expected to broach the subject with her family, never mind the Coven.

“Disorder in the court!” shouted the Infernal Three, as the crowd became unruly in the church. “We will have disorder in the court, or you will all be cast out.”

The Coven silenced, but the quiet felt much worse to Sabrina than any ruckus they could have made.

“I submit as evidence, the mark of the devil on Sabrina Spellman’s body!”

“This is ridiculous,” said Zelda, taking a stand. “Your Disgraces,” she said, stepping into the aisle and kneeling before the triumvirate. “My niece, Sabrina, did enter into a pact with the Dark Lord for the good of our Coven,” she said, looking back over the members of her church, before settling back on the Unholy Trivium. “Your Disgraces, the terms of their agreement had nothing to do with Father Blackwood. I have seen the mark myself and will swear to it.”

“I do not speak of the Beast’s mark on your niece’s tongue,” he said, enjoying the shock present on the faces before him. “I speak to the one on her neck. I watched the lewd act with my own eyes as the Dark Lord traced the mark onto her skin with His forked tongue.”

“She has no—”

“Silence!” ordered the Three. “Sabrina Spellman, you will answer these accusations.”

“Go on,” spat Father Blackwood. “Show them your marks, whore!” He walked up to the stand and grabbed her top, ripping it from her body.

She reached up to cover the mark on her neck, but not before most of the room had seen it.

Faustus wrenched her hand from her neck and roughly handled her to display the mark clearly for the triumvirate to read. “You see here clearly. The Dark Lord has already passed sentence for my crimes. I will not burn!”

“That is yet to be seen,” quipped Lilith. “I wouldn’t have done that,” she sang, stepping back from the stand as the room began to cook. The candles lining the walls suddenly blazed to the rafters, as the doors to the church were ripped from their hinges.

Father Blackwood released the white-haired witch and stepped away from the girl, when the devil walked into the room.

* * *

“My my, what trouble do we have here?” asked Lucifer genially, His temper surging through Him like a maelstrom as He strode further into the church, His cloven hoof shattering the stone floor beneath Him with every step He took.

“Dark Lord,” greeted the Unholy Trivium, recognizing their master in His angelic form.

“You have done me great insult, my Infernal Court,” He said softly.

“Lord Lucifer—”

He cut the three off with a twist of His wrist, separating their heads from their spines, sending their souls to burn in the Pit. “You have looked upon that which is mine,” He said, His voice barely restrained by wave after wave of unbridled anger roiling in His veins. With a second flick of His wrists, the three were breathing again, their screams of torment filling the church as smoke billowed out of every orifice they had. “Sabrina Morningstar is your Queen of Hell, my firstborn, and my bride,” He said, turning His hand to kill them once more. Resurrecting them again, He shouted, “you will never look upon her again without my permission.”

Their cries were horrendous, gurgling, and pained. Bile and blood seeped from their stitched skin, while burns covered their pink flesh, boiling, blistering, and exploding in pus.

He approached His daughter, sitting near the stand she had been called to, covering her chest as the Church looked on in terrified awe. He ripped off His cloak, wrapping it around her, and gathered her close to His body. Lifting the collar of His jacket to cover her neck, He turned His furious gaze to Faustus Blackwood.

“I will enjoy arranging your everlasting torment in the bowels of Hell, Faustus.” His anger rising as His daughter shook in His arms. “You will know only pain and suffering from this moment forward.” He raised His hand to banish the cowering man.

A hurricane of fire and ash descended on the Desecrated Church, momentarily blinding Him. His roar was deafening when the Plague Kings and pretender Prince appeared before Him, a number of Lords and Ladies from Hell in their company. The slight distraction provided enough time for Faustus to teleport away.

Faustus collapsed to the floor inside the Academy. The act of a desperate man driving him to reach deep inside himself, calling forward his soul to manifest. With a grimace, he set his pointed nails to work carving a sigil into his being that would hide him from the devil. Though pained and bloodied from his actions, fear drove him to his feet, and he began running.

* * *

“You dare to interrupt me?” asked Lucifer, His eyes glowing red as flames, His bellowing voice promising pain and Hellfire. “You dare interrupt my wrath?”

It was only Lilith’s hand on His shoulder that stopped Him from setting everything in His path ablaze. “Not yet, Dark Lord,” she warned. “Wait until Sabrina collects the rest of the Unholy Regalia. Win the game, then smite the trash.”

His body stiffened, and He forced a terrifying smile on His handsome face. “Quite right, Lilith.”

Realizing that their former Master was waiting for them to speak, Beelzebub stepped forward. “By Infernal Law, we hereby declare that the next quest for the Unholy Regalia will commence. The Morningstar, and her challenger, Caliban, must seek and retrieve the second of our most unholy artifacts: Pontius Pilate’s bowl.”

“What do you say, Princess?” asked Caliban, smirking at her small form engulfed in the clothes of Lucifer Morningstar. “Are you ready for round two?”

“That’s _Queen_ to you Caliban,” she said, feeling her father’s arms tighten briefly, pleased by her answer. Pulling her borrowed jacket closed in front, she turned in Lucifer’s arms to face her competitor. “Challenge accepted.”

The denizens of Hell cheered around them, as they disappeared in a puff of black smoke, back to the fiery chasm they had sprung from.

* * *

Silence descended on the Church of Night as the witches and warlocks of the congregation watched in abject fascination as their Dark Lord continued to humble them with His presence. The only noise to be heard was the laboured breathing of the forgotten triumvirate at the head of the church.

“How did you know to come?” asked Sabrina, looking back into her father’s gaze.

“Your Aunt Zelda,” said the Dark Lord. “She prayed to me when Faustus summoned you to the stand. She _demanded_ my presence when he laid a hand on you.”

She sighed, nodding in relief.

“For your reward, Sister Spellman,” continued the Dark Lord, raising His voice to address the High Priestess. “I will summon forth the Hounds of Hell to track down your estranged husband and return him to you. I will honour any additional punishments you wish to inflict upon him, but know his body and soul belong to me. I will have my pound of flesh.”

“And Prudence,” added Sabrina, taking a hold of His contracted hand and circling His wrist with her thumb.

“And Prudence,” He agreed. “In the meantime, I must return to Hell. I will not have the Plague Kings call into question any actions you take on the quest. Lilith will help you where she can. I look forward to your victorious return.” Before she could break away, He turned her to face Him, and leaned down to plant a hungry kiss on her lips. His tongue slipped past her lips, and she moaned faintly when He traced the pattern on her tongue with His own. She could vaguely hear her aunt Hilda’s gasp, before the Dark Lord disappeared in His own puff of black smoke, leaving her breathless, half-dressed, and alone at the front of the church.


	9. The Place of Skulls

“You have _a lot_ of explaining to do, young lady,” said Zelda, once they were back in the Dean’s office at the Academy. “How many more secrets have you been keeping from us?” she asked, shrill. “How many more lies have you fed us?”

“I haven’t been lying to you Auntie—”

“Might I interject a moment?” asked Lilith, stepping between the two. “Sabrina is currently on a quest to recover the lost artifacts that make up the Unholy Regalia.”

“So I heard.”

“Might we be able to hold this conversation until _after_ Sabrina returns from retrieving Pontius Pilate’s bowl?”

“I don’t particularly want my niece running around on Hell’s errands—”

“Zelda,’ began Lilith, feigning more patience than she felt. “Right now, if Sabrina were to lose to Caliban, she, and by extension, the Dark Lord, would be dethroned as monarchs of Hell. Whatever power the Dark Lord grants you will be cut off, leaving your Coven open to attack from pagans, witch-hunters, and whatever else hates you in this Hell-forsaken little town." In a much softer voice, she added, “I know you want to protect your niece, but right now you need her protection more. You may not want to believe it, but your plucky little niece can be pretty capable when she tries.”

It broke Zelda’s heart to agree, but as High Priestess to the Church of Night and Directrix of the Academy, if what Lilith said was true, then she had no choice but to let Sabrina go out and risk her life for a bunch of artifacts…for the good of the Coven.

“Do you know where this bowl is?” asked Zelda, regarding her niece sadly.

“It’s not _where_ that’s the problem, it’s when. The bowl is in Golgotha, also known as the place of skulls. There’s a portrait in Dorian Gray’s Room that can take us there. The when is a little trickier. The bowl is stuck in a time loop from when the Nazarene was crucified.” She looked at Sabrina skeptically, “unless you’ve mastered time magic—”

“Actually, I might be able to help with that,” said Ambrose, drawing the attention of the Mother of Monsters. “When Prudence and I located Father Blackwood in Scotland, he had an egg in his possession, one that warps time. I have it sitting in an aquarium in the Library. I’ve been using it to help Nick sober up after Sabrina found him in the Witches Cell.”

“Oh Heaven! I forgot about Nick!” exclaimed Sabrina.

Prudence smiled watching her face contort in worry. “The answer to your question is, yes. He definitely saw you sucking on daddy’s tongue earlier.”

“How is he doing?” Sabrina asked Ambrose, ignoring Prudence for the time being.

“He had enough drugs in his system to down an army when you brought him here,” said Ambrose. “He was lucky you found him when you did. I’ve been putting him through a brutally accelerated sobering program from my Oxford days. This afternoon, he was finally able to leave the Library under his own power.”

“He must be so mad at me right now,” she said, thinking over everything that had happened in the last two days. “He trapped the Dark Lord inside himself for me, and now…he must feel so betrayed. I should go to him—”

“You have other priorities, Sabrina,” said Lilith, no longer trying to pretend she wasn’t annoyed.

“He’s my _boyfriend_. He’s important to me—”

“Is he?” she asked, crooking a manicured brow. “The Dark Lord doesn’t play second best, Sabrina. You would do well to remember that.”

“Fine!” she said. “First Golgotha, then Nick, after that,” she spared a glance at her Auntie Zee, “after that I’ll answer whatever questions you have for me. No more secrets, I promise.”

* * *

“The Time Egg _was_ here,” said Ambrose, scratching his head and looking around the shelves nearest him, as though the egg would suddenly pop out somewhere.

“I guess we have a starting point to track Faustus. That’ll help the Hounds,” said Lilith, tapping the glass to the empty aquarium. “If this Time Egg was sitting in the water all this time, the water might be enough for the spell.” Lilith reached her hand into the tank to touch the water and took some of the liquid out to taste. “It’s a little skunky, but it feels powerful.”

Ambrose handed Sabrina a flask from his jacket. “You can use that to take the water with you. I’m going to warn Zelda that Faustus was here, and that he might still be on the property.”

“Thanks, Ambrose.”

“Good luck, cousin.”

* * *

Lilith and Sabrina walked through Dorian’s portrait of Golgotha and arrived in the Place of Skulls, the grey stone and desert just as Madame Satan remembered it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, looking around. “I’ll be waiting right here for you, Sabrina. Make your way to the Temple of Jerusalem as quickly as you can, take the bowl, and get the Heaven out of there. Any mistake could have you trapped in the time loop forever. You remember the spell for the water?”

Sabrina nodded, taking the flask out of her pocket to begin dousing over her. “ _Bestow your gaze upon this land of prophecy. Back to the time of Anno Domini_.”

She knew it worked when she looked around and found the land to be smoking, a string of posted skulls leading down to a temple with a cross. Seeing no other sites around, she followed the path along the rocky wasteland, passing a large stone with a time rune carved into the top.

“We’ve been expecting you,” said a voice from behind her.

Spinning around, she came face to spear with a decrepit centurion, standing between her and who she could only surmise to be Pontius Pilate.

* * *

Sabrina was out of breath when she suddenly appeared in front of Lilith, clutching Pontius Pilate’s bowl.

“You were quicker than I thought you’d be,” she complimented. “I was split fifty/fifty whether or not you’d get stuck. No trouble I take it?”

“Plenty of trouble,” Sabrina corrected, studying her prize in hand. “Caliban was there. I left him behind.”

“How terrible,” said the Mother of Monsters, with a smile. “Absolute victory. Let’s not keep the horde waiting. Your father will be itching to remove a few heads with your victory clinched, especially after today.”

Sabrina nodded, letting Lilith spirit them to Hell in a tempest of fire.

* * *

Lilith took delight in making an entrance in Pandemonium. While serving a half-mortal was a punishment she could do without, she was reveling in the chaos Sabrina’s presence made in Hell, chiefly among the older Lords and Lesser Kings. She was beginning to think she might actually come to like the witch.

“Let it be known to the hordes of Hell, that Sabrina Morningstar was victorious in Golgotha,” she announced, walking into the Throne Room, her former flame sitting in the seat of power, and smirking as both women earned a number of jeers and hisses among the crowd that surrounded the Plague Kings. “She has returned to Hell with one of the most pernicious of arcane artifacts. I give you the bowl of Pontius Pilate.”

Sabrina looked around sheepishly, her supporters currently few among the denizens of Hell. One in particular caught her attention. Lucifer Morningstar rose from the throne and clapped, walking toward His daughter purposefully, a mischievous twinkle in His eye. Before the Unholy Court, He took her hand and knelt down before her, placing a chaste kiss on the back. Rising, He held her hand in His and guided her toward her throne.

“Where is Prince Caliban?” asked Beelzebub, looking around the room for her competitor.

“Sabrina’s victory is absolute,” said Lilith, from the casing created to hold the most unhallowed artifacts.

“I’m not sure that he survived,” she admitted, taking a seat, her father assuming His position at her left.

“You don’t really wish that were true, do you Princess?” asked Caliban, walking down the same steps into Pandemonium she had just traveled, covered in dirt and not much else.

“Caliban? How did you survive?”

“I’m made of clay. I waited under the dust of ages for two thousand years after you cheated, stole Pontius Pilates bowl, and left me for dead.”

“More’s the pity,” muttered Lilith, coming to stand at Sabrina’s right side.

“Make no mistake, Princess,” continued the pretender Prince. “I won’t lose our next and final contest. Hell will be mine.”

“You’ve each won a challenge,” said Lucifer, looking across the room to his Plague Kings of old. “Which can only mean one thing; sudden death.”

“The winner of the next trial shall reign in Hell for all eternity,” agreed Beelzebub, gathering his champion, and whisking him away.

* * *

“You did well today, daughter,” complimented the Dark Lord, once the Infernal Court had departed and Lilith was excused back to her duties on Earth. “You make a fine Queen. You were born for this role.”

“I left Caliban in a time loop to die,” she countered, surprised with herself. “I was willing to let my competition for a quest to rule Hell, die for a bowl. I’m not sure if that’s very Queenly.”

“On Earth, maybe, but a Queen of Hell must be ruthless,” He sought to remind her, moving to kneel in front of the throne and look her straight in the eye. “She has to be smarter, stronger, more cunning, and more vicious than all the citizens of Hell, if she is to survive. Deny it all you like, but there is a part of Hell mixed up inside all of that… _human_ in you. There’s a part of me inside of you.”

“Not as much as you’d like, I’m sure,” she said, acting far braver than she felt. She needed to keep Him in a good mood if she had any chance of getting Him to agree to save Roz.

His answering smirk was borderline indecent. “Give it time, daughter. You will come to crave my touch as hotly as you protest it now.”

“In your dreams,” she whispered nervously, regretting her initial flirtation almost instantly. She had felt powerful in her relationships with Harvey and Nick, directing their attention where, when, and how she wanted it. Lucifer Morningstar did not hand over power willingly and always wanted something in return.

“Or in yours?” He replied innocently, eyes falling to her mouth as His contracted hand casually reached out to squeeze her thigh. “I don’t believe there will be a full moon tonight to direct our actions, daughter, but I expect the results will be the same.”

She swallowed, sitting further back in her chair, not expecting Him to bring up her dream from last night, or insinuate that He would be starring in more of them in the future.

Her innocence ignited a fire in His blood that was hard to ignore. He constantly had to remind Himself that she was untouched, for risk of frightening her with His lust for her. Her brave attempt to seduce His good humour stoked His desire for her to a blistering heat, and it was all He could do not to take her there against the throne. “Ask me whatever favours you are struggling to articulate, Sabrina. It is beneath both of us to play these games.”

She brain felt heady under His gaze, her thoughts slowed down to a crawl as though cast deep under a spell by His sparkling green eyes. It was the only reason she could think to explain why she leaned forward to kiss Him. Her execution was clumsy, her lips only catching a corner of His mouth, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a glimmer of pride in His surprise. Fortune favours the bold, she thought.

“My friend Roz, one of my human friends,” she clarified for Him, “was petrified, the way Dorcas was. I was wondering if you could break the spell, the way you did last night?”

He sighed hearing her request. “I made a vow that I would look after your friends,” He said, holding up the back of His hand for her to see. “I could not go against it if I tried. Right now, with the pagans still at large, Faustus Blackwood unaccounted for, the quest still in progress to win the seat of Hell, I have to wonder if this is the best time? She is probably safer as she is currently, than she will be if return her.”

“Please,” she begged Him.

“You realize how humiliating and debasing it is to have the devil spare a mortal, right?”

“Please.”

“I could refuse you, you know. Saying ‘no’ to you right now, is not the same thing as saying never. You could spare me the indignity of knowing I will have to undoubtedly save your friends again and again and again until our contract is ended.”

“Please, Lucifer!”

He grabbed the back of her head and forced her mouth to His in a fiercely possessive kiss. He bit her bottom lip and savagely pressed His tongue into her mouth when she gasped, stroking the muscle until He managed to coax her shy pink tongue into His own mouth. The second He felt her hands touch Him, He pulled away from her, both struggling to regulate their breath. “You will think of me tonight, daughter,” He ordered her, voice roughened with passion, “and I will come to you tomorrow with an answer. For now, you should return home.”


	10. Coming Clean...ish

Sabrina returned to the Academy of Unseen Arts through Dorian’s portrait, hoping to run into Nick before she made her way home to the Spellman Inquisition.

As it happened, there was only one warlock in Dorian’s Gray Room, and the bar’s namesake was not the someone she was keen to speak with. He was, however, a good friend of Nick’s.

“Dorian,” she greeted, coming to sit at the bar.

“Ms. Morningstar,” he returned, his hands suddenly the picture of sophistication as he set to work preparing a drink for the witch, his actions a mixture of manual dexterity and magic. He handed her a frozen concoction with a maraschino cherry sitting innocently on top.

“What’s this?”

“A virgin daiquiri,” he replied. “Compliments of the Dark Lord.”

Her answering blush could have melted the drink she pushed off to the side. “Dorian, do you know where Nick is?”

“I don’t believe Mr. Scratch is looking to entertain any conversations right now,” he replied. “Particularly with you.”

Her gut wrenched at the dismissal. “Please, Dorian. I really need to speak with Nick. He’s been through an ordeal—”

“No thanks to you—”

“I need to make it right!” she snapped. “I know he’s hurting; I know how everything looks! If I could just explain—”

“What do you think to accomplish?” he asked, his expression unsympathetic as watched her. “What do you have to offer Nick, that doesn’t already belong to the Dark Lord?”

“I belong to no one but myself!”

“I hear there are two marks on your body that say otherwise,” challenged Dorian, his eyes roving over her. “One of them, in a particularly _daring_ place?” When she didn’t reply, he shrugged and said, “Nick will find you, when he wants to see you. If you’re not going to have your drink, you can leave.”

Sabrina grabbed her drink and downed in one go, popping the cherry into her mouth when she’d finished, and slamming the glass down to the bar. “I’ll see myself out.”

She had hoped to run into Nick on the way out of the Academy. She took the long way through the Library and around a number of the lecture halls. What she found was Prudence, waiting for her at the main doors.

“Your mortal’s showing, Sabrina,” she said, taking in her sad expression. “Heartbreak’s not a good look on witches.”

“Nick’s hiding from me,” she said, no longer caring to put on airs before the other witch. Sabrina was tired, and frankly didn’t have the energy anymore. “I think I’m allowed to be a little upset, given everything that’s going on.”

“Why are you so desperate to save things with Nick?” asked Prudence, genuinely curious about the other witch.

“Nick’s my boyfriend, Prudence…or, at least he was before everything went to Hell.”

“This may be none of my business, but from one witch to another, did Nicholas ever thank you?” she asked, watching confusion wash over Sabrina’s face. “You saved him from Hell. You helped him get clean. You took his anger and blame when he was high and addicted to sex demons. Yet, all you want, is to go back for more. I think you of all people would have more self-respect than that, your _majesty_.”

“I love him,” she whispered, her voice small and weak in her own ears.

“Is that enough?” she asked, not unkindly. “You may not love Him right now, but the Dark Lord—”

“He. Is. My. Father!”

“And you are a witch!” she snapped back. “More than that, you are the Queen of Hell. You need to get over these human hang-ups of yours. No one else cares, including your father. I know you’re a virgin, Sabrina, but surely you can see that Daddy _wants_ to fuck His little girl.”

“Part of my ‘human hang-ups,’ is that I’m also mortal, Prudence, as you love to remind me.”

“The Dark Lord is not your mortal father,” she pointed out, unable to understand Sabrina’s denial. “He is not even infernal. He is celestial; a higher power.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re attracted to Him,” she said, and like a popped balloon, Sabrina deflated. “You really need to get over whatever complex you have about sex. You’re limiting yourself to a whole world of magic you’ve never experienced. The possibilities with Him, would be endless.”

“I don’t want to experience those things with Him. Why do you even care?” she shouted at the taller blonde.

“I saw a powerful witch today. I’d seen glimpses of her before, but I never really saw her until today. She stood at the altar of our Desecrated Church and challenged demons before the Coven, demons trying to take what belonged to her, and defied them. I respect that witch, I might even like her on occasion.”

Once again, Sabrina felt the fight in her disappear. “I can’t give in to Him, Prudence.”

“Why not?”

“He already owns so much of me. There’d be nothing left.”

“That’s only because you haven’t learned to take what you want back from Him,” she said, stepping to the side to allow Sabrina to walk past her and out the door. “The Devil taketh, Sabrina. There’s nothing that says you can’t too.”

* * *

Sabrina stared at the front door of her house, trying to will herself inside. She could feel the restlessness permeating from the house. It was clear her aunts and cousin knew she was home and hadn’t forgotten that she’d promised them answers. Salem purred and brushed up against her leg, offering comfort where he could.

“I think we’re just going to have to rip this band-aid off, Salem,” she said quietly, stiffening her shoulders and cracking her neck. She took three deep breaths before reaching out to turn the knob and walk in, her familiar never more than a step behind her.

As expected, her aunts and Ambrose were sitting in the kitchen, a half-eaten pie at the centre of the table, causing Sabrina’s eye to twitch when she realized it was probably cherry.

“The prodigal niece returns,” commented Zelda, crossing her arms. “I trust your mission for Hell went okay.”

“I retrieved the bowl,” answered Sabrina, leaning back against the counter, Salem diligently at her side. She needed to maintain some space from the others if she was going to be able to get everything out tonight. She was too restless to be stuck in one spot and subjected to endless questioning without some form of relief, especially after the unexpected _tête-à-tête_ with Prudence.

“You’re not hurt, are you love?” asked Hilda, about to get up and start fussing over her.

“No auntie,” she assured her. “While it wasn’t as easy as I would have liked, I didn’t get injured retrieving the bowl.” She looked at Ambrose guiltily, before adding, “I may have lost your flask though.”

“As long as you’re alright, cousin,” said Ambrose, shrugging off the missing trinket. “It was a cheap gift store purchase from Oxford. I’m sure I have another floating around.”

“I take it from the fact you’ve come home _sans_ bowl, that you made a small detour to Hell?” hedged Zelda, watching as Sabrina seemed to shrink into herself. Her niece looked tired and sad in her corner, arms wrapped around herself and unable to make eye contact with anyone in their family. “Any more pacts that we should be aware of, or would you like me to call the Coven for you to make the announcement.”

She may have deserved that, thought Sabrina, thinking about how her family had learned of her second deal with the Dark Lord. “No, Aunt Zelda,” she replied quietly.

“How would I know?” she asked crossly. “You haven’t stopped lying to me since your first foray into Hell. I can’t keep up with all the secrets, Sabrina. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“I’m still me, auntie,” she said, pleading. “I’m still Sabrina. I’m still the one you and Auntie Hilda raised.” Her eyes began to well up, with unshed tears. “I’m still your niece. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes recently…I know I hurt you guys—”

“Well as long as you _know_ ,” snapped Zelda, slamming a hand on the kitchen table.

“Sister!” hissed Hilda, watching as her poor niece slid down to the floor, curling her legs up to her chest as a barrier. She reminded Hilda of just how young she still was. “Sabrina,” she said gently, waiting for her niece to look up and acknowledge her, “you’ve hurt your Aunt Zelda and I very much.” Hilda was relieved to see Salem butting his head against her side, and brushing up against her legs, trying to support her wayward niece. “You know I can’t abide by the lying, sweetheart. We should not have found out about the second deal you made with the Dark Lord at Father Blackwood’s trial.”

“I’m sorry aunties,” she said, miserable.

“I know you are, darling. I believe you, but I think you’d best start telling us what’s going on with these deals of yours. Your Aunt Zelda and I have been around a long while, dearie, your cousin Ambrose too. I think we can take whatever it is your worried about us knowing.”

Sabrina let her legs fall flat in front of her, and welcomed Salem on her lap. Her nerves were soothed by the repetitive motion of petting her familiar while he purred contentedly against her, the small vibration calming in its own right.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said hesitantly.

“How about why you told me you hadn’t made another deal,” said Ambrose, from his seat between his two aunts.

“I _never_ said I didn’t make another deal,” she said, feeling his frown from where she was sitting on the floor. “When I spoke to you earlier, you accused me of making a deal for the Dark Lord’s support of Aunt Zelda as High Priest. I never made that deal.”

Zelda scoffed.

“Auntie,” began Sabrina, finally meeting her aunt’s gaze. “I didn’t bargain myself out for you to get to the position of High Priestess.” With concerted effort, she pulled herself off the floor and walked over to wrap her arms around her red-headed aunt, curling into her side like she used to when she was smaller. “Nor would I ever,” she promised.

“I told Lucifer you had already assumed the position of High Priestess after Father Blackwood tried to murder our Coven. I argued that the Path of Night was supposed to be about free will, choice, and less constrictive than the False God’s way—where women have no rights. I told Him that I thought you were the best person for the job, because you practically lived and breathed the Path of Night, and there was no one more devout than you.”

“Oh Sabrina,” whispered Zelda, holding her niece tightly, forgetting her earlier anger and allowing the thoughtfulness of her niece’s words wash over her.

“He was talking about sending Lilith to burn in the Pit of Despair for four-hundred years, and I asked Him to send Lilith to you instead, so that warlocks, like the ones on the Witches Council, would take your claim seriously. I had already freed Lucifer and made our first pact when you came up in conversation. You’re where you are, because you deserve it, Aunt Zee.”

“Be that as it may,” said her aunt Zelda, much less angry than before, “you _did_ enter into another agreement with the Dark Lord, and in front of Faustus, no less!”

She bit her lip guiltily. “I didn’t actually mean to make a second bargain,” she admitted. “While I was waiting for Aunt Hilda and Ambrose to finish making their sleep draught for Father Blackwood, the Dark Lord came to my room.”

“I thought I smelt brimstone, down the hall—”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t expecting Him,” she said quietly, not daring to look at her Aunt Hilda or Ambrose. She still wasn’t entirely sure how much either of them had seen. “He was checking in on me and found out that Father Blackwood was tied to my bed.”

“How did He know that, cousin?”

“…He saw Father Blackwood through my mirror.”

“And how did the Dark Lord know to look through your mirror?”

“…We have a…There might be a…a telepathic link between us,” she admitted, uncomfortably.

“I see,” said her Aunt Zelda, voice strangled.

“Anyways,” she said, trying to rush past that little revelation for her family. “He began asking me about how I would punish Father Blackwood if I could. I said I would hand him over to Prudence, personally, but that it was up to the Witches Council, and I wasn’t confident they would punish him. H-he…He said He would ensure that Prudence, Aunt Zee, and I would get our revenge on Blackwood for everything he’s done to us, and that He would ensure it…”

“In exchange for what, Sabrina?” asked Zelda, worried about the price the Dark Lord might have demanded for such a promise.

Zelda, Hilda, and Ambrose marvelled at the bright shade of red overtaking Sabrina’s face. They watched as she studiously avoided looking at any of them, or the pie sitting innocently in front of her.

“He didn’t ask for anything…indecent, did He?” demanded Zelda, feeling her ire on the rise.

“No,” choked out her niece. “No…He didn’t ask for much.”

“What did He want, Sabrina?” asked Zelda, unconvinced.

“Just…to think of Him,” she said, trying to disappear through her aunt Zelda and her chair to avoid any further discussion on the topic. “Nothing more than that.”

“The Dark Lord asked you to think about Him?” repeated Hilda, confused by the odd request.

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, squirming in her seat.

She could tell Ambrose had an idea of what the Dark Lord might have wanted her to think about. The sudden smirk on his face made her want to run up to her bedroom, lock the door, and hide away from people for the rest of her life.

“I have a question for you, cousin,” he said.

Sabrina knew then and there that she was not going to like what he had to say next.

“Where do the cherries come into all of this?"

She smacked her head to the table and groaned.


	11. The Garden

Thankfully, Sabrina’s aunts and cousin took pity on her soon after they realized that the youngest Spellman had no intention of answering Ambrose’s question, but not before exacting a few promises of their own from her.

“I want you to promise me,” said Zelda, stopping Sabrina before she could leave the kitchen, “that you’ll come to us first before you go off making any more deals with the Dark Lord. Or,” she added quickly, before Sabrina could argue, “I want you to let us know the second it does. I have no desire to go through a repeat of what happened today. I promise not to be upset, if you can prove to me, I can trust you.”

“Yes, Aunt Zee,” answered Sabrina, excusing herself from the kitchen to run to bed.

“That girl is going to turn my hair white at the rate she’s going,” said Zelda, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag.

“To be fair to Sabrina,” said her sister, “you are over five hundred years old. You were bound to start going white eventually.”

“Please,” scoffed Zelda, “the women in our family don’t grey until well into their twentieth century. I’m not even touching fourteen hundred yet.”

“Still, the poor dear,” said Hilda, ignoring her sister. “She’s had a rough go of it lately.” Hilda thought about how tired and sad her niece had looked when she first came home and frowned. “It can’t be easy knowing the safety and security of the Coven is dependent on her marrying the Dark Lord.”

“You do realize she hasn’t told us everything, Auntie,” stated Ambrose. “Although we did not discuss it, the placement of her first contract, and some of the… _interactions_ we have witnessed, suggest that Sabrina might not be as unwilling to receive the Dark Lord’s advances as we first thought.”

“They nearly gave me a heart attack when we saw Him in her room last night,” agreed Hilda, the image of her niece pressed flush against the Dark Lord, as He nibbled on her ear, flashing in her head.

“What are you saying, Ambrose?” asked Zelda, lighting up a second cigarette. “Do you think Sabrina wants to be the Dark Lord’s Queen?

“I’m saying…I wouldn’t discount it, anymore.”

* * *

Sabrina’s head was resting against something hard and warm when her eyes fluttered open. A large hand carded through her hair in slow passes that forced a pleasant sigh from her lips, alerting its owner that she was awake. She recognized His laugh, when she nudged her head back into His hand, forcing Him to continue His ministrations after He’d stopped.

“Are you awake, daughter?” asked the Dark Lord, humouring her voiceless command to continue stroking her hair.

“No,” she replied, shifting her head to look up into the face of Lucifer Morningstar. Belatedly, she realized that her head was currently cushioned on His lap, and that she should probably feel embarrassed, but she wasn’t. He was sitting up, His back propped up against a tree trunk, with a red collard shirt left unbuttoned and framing the sun-kissed skin of His chest. He was glorious to behold in sunlight, and He held her undivided attention. Close as she was, Sabrina could easily make out the tight definition of His muscles, and absently reached out to trace a line, mapping His body with her fingers, and enjoying the feel of His body flexing under her hand.

He groaned as her finger lazily stilled in the trail of dark hair leading into His slacks. “You don’t have to stop there,” He whispered, reaching down to unbutton His pants, exposing more golden skin for her curious eyes to feast on. “Sate your curiosity, daughter. I most certainly bite.”

She placed her hand on His thigh instead, much to His disappointment, lifting herself up to get a better look around.

“Where are we?” she asked.

He looked around bored. “The Garden.”

“ _The_ Garden?”

He pointed up, directing her gaze to the tree they were under. Bushels of dark red fruit hung from its branches, mirroring the flush spreading rapidly across her cheeks. He reached up and plucked one, holding her attention as He placed it in His mouth. 

She swallowed dryly.

His answering smile was pure sin. Reaching for her, He gathered her into His lap, framing His hips with her bent knees. He gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her snug against His chest, enjoying the lust-fueled glaze in her eyes as He brought His lips close to hers. “Care to taste?” He asked huskily, dipping His head to seal His mouth against hers.

She reacted like He hoped she would. Her hands locked in His hair, pulling His face closer. Her teeth nipped His lips, and He opened His mouth without resistance, encouraging her with a moan as she used His body for her pleasure. She ground her hips against Him, feeling Him harden beneath her, and moaned wantonly when His hands found their way under her skirt to squeeze her ass.

She sucked on His bottom lip, grinding her centre against Him and moaned desperately, seeking release but unknowing how to get there.

“What do you want, Sabrina?” asked the Dark Lord, tearing His mouth from hers to nip at her chin.

“I…I don’t—”

“What do you need, daughter?” He repeated, continuing His assault along her jaw, nipping and biting the at the sensitive skin, and wreaking havoc with her already overstimulated brain.

“Touch me,” she whimpered.

“I am touching you,” He said, enjoying her struggle to ask for more of Him

She managed to surprise Him, when she grabbed one of His hands and placed it between her legs. “I need you,” she cried, rubbing herself against His hand. “Inside me, please.”

He moved His hand long enough to tear a slit in the front of her skirt before returning it to her molten heat. Her thong was soaked through, and He just about came when she reached down to tear the small scrap of nothing off. He palmed her folds, making sure she was slick enough before pressing a finger into her tight centre.

She took His mouth hotly and whimpered as His tongue probed her mouth in the same sharp motions as His finger buried in her sweet cunt. She whined when He pulled His mouth away a second time.

“Watch yourself opening up on my hand,” He ordered her, waiting until her hooded eyes managed to lock on to where they were joined. She gasped when He added a second finger, her desire for Him growing as she watched His fingers come out wetter and wetter each time. She was virgin tight, her muscles squeezing His fingers like a clamp.

Sabrina momentarily lost her balance when the Dark Lard sunk further to the ground, pulling His fingers out of her long enough to plant her further up His body, His expression ravenous before He buried His face between her legs, His tongue picking up where His fingers had left off.

Sabrina screamed feeling His forked tongue pistoning deep inside her with a demonic speed that had her coming in bursts like machinegun fire. Unable to support herself, she fell against the tree, watching helpless as some of the riper fruit fell to cover the space around them.

He turned her over so that she was lying on her back, His arms holding her legs open as He lazily swiped His tongue across her slit, sending little shocks of pleasure down her spine every now and again. She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering when the shame would start to roll over her.

A small, cold object pressed against her sex, forcing a gasp from her lips as she opened her eyes to stare at the devil between her legs. Rolling a small red cherry with His tongue between her folds, she watched hypnotized as He took the fruit into His mouth and groaned.

Long after He had eaten His fill, Lucifer wrapped His daughter in His arms, lazily drawing patterns along her back.

“I’m never going to be able to look at fruit again,” she whined, feeling His body shake with suppressed laughter. “Your tongue should be illegal.”

“It pleases me that you speak your mind so plainly,” said the Dark Lord, a long cherry stem perched between His lips, the fruit long since consumed.

“This is a dream. Dreams aren’t real,” she said, pressing further back into the comfortable heat of His chest.

“Are you so certain?” He asked, pressing a kiss to His seal on her neck, and enjoying her gasp.

“It can’t be real,” she said, looking up at Him.

“Because you desire me here,” He guessed.

“No,” she replied, feeling His hands still on her back. “I’m not saying ‘no’ that I don’t desire you,” she clarified, feeling His hands resume stroking her skin. “What I mean is, aren’t dreams manifestations of the subconscious? Subconsciously, I find you attractive, ergo my dreams create an environment for me to safely act out some heinously Oedipal attraction I have for you.”

He pressed His mouth to hers gently, enjoying how she responded to Him. He almost felt bad that He was going to shatter the very human explanation she had created for their joining the last two nights. Almost. He traced her face with a delicate hand, tucking the same string of rebellious hair behind her ear from the previous evening, when He took her lips again.

“If you were mortal that might be true,” He whispered, pressing kisses to her neck and face. “The fact is, there is no place in any realm, in Hell, in Heaven, or on Earth that I could not find you, Sabrina. You were made for me, from me, and by me. While the bargain we made makes it easier, even if it disappeared tomorrow, you could not hide from me.”

She let Him kiss her again, His lips, sin incarnate against her own. She almost believed what He said was true. Almost. She felt Him press something in her mouth before His lips travelled back to her ear.

“As promised, I will come to see you today about your friend, daughter,” He whispered.

* * *

Sabrina woke up much as she had the previous morning, heart-racing, sweaty, and uncomfortably wet. She peeled herself out of bed and frowned, feeling something floating around inside her mouth. Horrified, she spat the object out into her hand, and realized breathlessly that it was a stem, the cherry stem Lucifer had been playing with in His mouth, tied up loosely in a bow.


	12. Touched by an Angel

Sabrina came down the stairs in a daze, after her early-morning discovery. She managed to make her way into the kitchen and sit down for breakfast on autopilot, barely registering anyone else around her.

“Morning, cousin,” greeted Ambrose, above his newspaper. “Sleep well?”

She nodded absently, doing her best _not_ to think about her night, and how completely she had given herself to the Dark Lord in her dreams. Never mind that she had told Him of her attraction. Was it considered cheating if it happened in her sleep? Or if she was technically engaged to the Dark Lord? For the first time since starting at the Academy, she was hoping to avoid running into Nick at all costs.

“You look nice this morning, dear,” commented Hilda, taking in her niece’s black turtleneck and tartan trousers. “Are you planning on going to Baxter, then?”

Sabrina shrugged off the compliment. She hadn’t put as much effort into her selection as she usually did. Her only priority in fashion this morning, had been covering the devil’s seal on her neck; just because the Coven knew about it, didn’t mean she wanted everyone gawking at it. She foresaw a lot of high collars and turtlenecks in her future. “I figured I could do with a normal day.”

“Speaking of school, Zelda left for the Academy early. Apparently, the Hounds were stirred into a frenzy in the wee hours and they might have a lead on Father Blackwood,” continued Hilda, preparing a plate for Sabrina. “There you go,” she said, setting down a plate of Earl Gray crepes and cherry compote in front of her.

“Thanks Aunt Hilda,” said Sabrina, poking at the food with her fork, her mind replaying images in graphic detail of forked tongues, cherries, clever fingers, and wickeder smiles.

Ambrose watched his young cousin with interest. She was playing with her food, distractedly. Tearing the crepe to pieces and pushing it all over the place, something clearly on her mind. She savagely stabbed at an innocent candied fruit from the glaze their aunt had made, popping it into her mouth with a light rouge beginning to overtake her cheeks and neck.

“And just what has that fruit done to deserve your ire this morning, cousin?”

She shook her head, blush intensifying.

Ambrose figured whatever sparked her reaction had to be good. “Does it have anything to do with our sudden overgrowth of stone fruit? I’ve never seen someone have such a visceral reaction to food before.”

Sabrina dropped her fork and dusted some imaginary dirt from her top before getting up from the table. “I’m going to run ahead to Baxter High,” she told her aunt Hilda, bussing her on the cheek as she passed her to leave. “I’ll be home later tonight!”

Hilda gently cuffed her nephew in the back of the head. “Cheeky!” she accused.

“She’s a vestal sixteen-year-old half-witch embarrassed about eating candied cherries,” he said, with a shrug. “You’re not even a little curious?”

“I can honestly say, I don’t want to know,” said Hilda, shaking her head as she took away Sabrina’s plate.

* * *

The halls of Baxter High offered Sabrina a comfortable familiarity that she needed. No matter what happened in Greendale, Hell, the Academy, and even her house, Baxter High remained gloriously simple and unchanged. She walked toward her locker with a light bounce in her step, delighting in the ambivalence of her peers.

“Hey!” called Theo, spotting her from his locker, and running down the hall to join her. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Hey Theo,” greeted Sabrina, putting her bookbag away, and shutting the door. “It was kind of a last-minute decision,” she admitted. “There’s been so much going on between the Coven and…the pagans, that I decided I needed a break from being a witch for a few hours.” She looked around the hall, expecting to see Harvey or Robin nearby, and was surprised when neither turned up.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” said Theo, shrugging.

* * *

Sabrina allowed her brain to drift away in the monotony of her first two classes, unable to retain much more than her own desire for peace. In all honesty, she knew better than to think her mini respite would last the day. It was the faint smell of brimstone that brought her back to herself, followed by a low buzz from the lights, right before they crackled, shutting off and back on like an early warning beacon to a disaster about to take place.

The brief flicker was enough to interrupt Ms. Wardwell. The small rap at the door that followed, caused her to jump. “Come in,” she said, in a quiet voice.

The door swung open slowly, creaking in aged effort, as Lucifer Morningstar was revealed, dressed impeccably in a tailored three-piece suit that somehow looked more licentious than His usual lack of attire. His shirt, tie, and pocket square were all black, while the rest of Him was swathed in tight-fitted burgundy.

Sabrina heard Theo inhale sharply behind her and prayed he wouldn’t open his mouth.

“Good afternoon,” He greeted, stepping into the class, revelling in the attention His looks received. One particular set of dilated brown eyes had His ego preening in satisfaction. “I was hoping to borrow one of your students, Ms…”

“Wardwell,” replied Mary, flustered. His face felt familiar to her, but she couldn’t place where. “Mary Wardwell. Did one of the faculty send you this way?” She thought it was odd that Mrs. Meeks wouldn’t have come herself if one of the students was being picked up.

“No,” He said, offering no further explanation.

“Usually we have students paged to the office, so classes aren’t interrupted,” she explained, babbling at the inhumanly striking man in her class.

The Dark Lord ignored the prattling of Lilith’s likeness, focusing on the reason He’d stooped so low as to entertain mortals. “Sabrina,” He said, His message clear.

She felt the eyes of the class on her, and silently began to collect her things to leave.

“Sir, you can’t just come and take students out of class, you need permission from a parent. Unless you have a note from one of Sabrina’s aunts—”

“Mary,” He said, cutting off the spinster, His voice suddenly as silk, enthralling all that heard it. “I will be taking Sabrina with me. She is excused for the rest of the day.”

“Sabrina will leave with you,” she agreed, not entirely sure why she had thought to argue with Him.

* * *

“You couldn’t wait until after school?” hissed Sabrina, once she had followed Lucifer out of class. “Theo’s going to be going out of his mind with worry! Not to mention, what’s everybody going to be saying? For all they know, I just walked out of class with a complete stranger.”

“The mortals are beneath you, Sabrina,” said the Dark Lord, unmoved by her outburst. “You are Queen of Hell, daughter, you explain yourself to no one!”

“I go to mortal high school,” she said, “I have mortal friends. As much as you say I am of Hell, I am also half of the very group of people you mock and hate.”

He stopped walking to face her. “I do not hate your human half, Sabrina—much as it tries my patience. You were made perfect,” He said, reaching down to stroke the covered mark on her neck. “I do not like that the mortals hold you back. You are the product of an unholy union of celestial, infernal, and mortal. As you have said to me yourself, the Path of Night is one of free choice and thought, the Path of Light is not. You have such strength in you, but it is crippled by human understanding.”

She cupped the hand on her neck and squeezed.

The Dark Lord sighed. “I did demean myself to come to this mortal cesspit for a reason, daughter.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes at the change in Him. “You told me you would have an answer for me today,” she said quietly, remembering His words from The Garden.

“Take me to where your friend is. I would have this done before anyone realizes I’ve left Hell or can accuse me of good intentions.” The scowl He shot His daughter was inspiring. “Rescuing mortals,” He groaned, “I’m practically a saint.”

“All hail St. Lucifer!”

“Bite your tongue, daughter, or better yet, I will!”

* * *

Harvey’s truck was missing from the Kinkle property when they arrived. Sabrina didn’t spare much thought to its absence and took the Dark Lord’s hand, leading Him into the garage, where Roz was still lying petrified on the couch.

Sabrina regarded her friend sadly, praying to Satan He would be able to heal her.

“Of course I can heal her,” replied the Dark Lord, answering her prayers aloud. He dropped her hand to place it on the stone effigy of her friend. “Not one word about this in Hell,” He warned.

Roz blinked several times, trying to convince herself she wasn’t looking up at the Dark Lord.

“Am I in Hell?” she asked, nervously.

The Dark Lord scoffed and moved to the side, allowing Sabrina to nudge her way up front, relieved to see her friend back in good health. “You’re in Harvey’s garage, Roz,” she said, helping her friend to sit up. “It’s been just over two days since you broke into the carnival with Harvey and Theo. You were turned to stone.”

Roz’s head hurt to think but was getting pieces back from that night. “I was in the snake charmer's tent,” she said. “I noticed something strange about the carnival when we went the first time. Professor Carcosa was some kind of satyr…We went back after Harvey’s dad brought home the snake-charmer. I went into her tent to use my _cunning_ and I saw her hair turn into snakes.” Roz flexed her fingers, stiff from her time as stone.

“I’m so happy you’re okay now,” said Sabrina, reaching out to hug her best friend.

Roz lurched forward as her _cunning_ brought her into a vision.

* * *

It took a moment for Roz to catch a glimpse of where she was. She thought it looked like a dorm room from the way it was laid out. There were several beds laid out in a circle around the crimson room, with old steamer trunks at the foot of each iron frame, and grotesque paintings and statues lining the walls. The space appeared empty, except for two people sitting on one of the beds.

When Roz got closer, she realized it was Sabrina. She had her arms locked around the Dark Lord’s neck, her legs on either side of Him as she sat in His lap. Her friend was locked in a desperate kiss, hands fisted and tugging at His hair. His own hands were splayed along Sabrina’s back, holding her tightly against Him as she worshiped His mouth with her own. Her friend looked feverish, hands sliding down the devil’s body to push Him back against the bed.

Roz stood frozen, watching as the hands bracing Sabrina’s back, slid down over her skirt to cup her ass, and from there crept under her skirt to touch parts thankfully hidden from view. Her friend sat up abruptly, hands drifting down to the Dark Lord’s waist, fumbling with something that didn't bear further contemplation.

With an ease that only comes with familiarity, Roz watched as Sabrina lifted herself and crawled further up the Dark Lord’s body, aligning their hips before slowly lowering herself back into His lap. The bed began to creak as she rolled her hips over His, their movements hard and fast. There was no mistaking what they were up to.

The last thing she saw, was Sabrina tearing her mouth away long enough to scream the devil’s name.

* * *

“Roz!” shouted Sabrina, shaking her friend, who had been unresponsive far too long for her liking. “Are you okay? Roz!”

Roz pulled away from Sabrina gently, squeezing one of her hands to let her know that she was fine.

“You scared me halfway to Heaven,” accused Sabrina, hovering over her friend.

“I’m okay Sabrina,” she said reassuringly. “It was the _cunning_. It…it showed me something when you touched me.”

“Is it bad?”

Roz shrugged. “Depends on your point-of-view, I suppose.”


	13. Razing Pagans, pt. 1

Sabrina wasn’t sure what to make of Roz’s behaviour. She would barely make eye contact with her, and outright refused to look at the Dark Lord.

“Roz, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Sabrina. I just…didn’t expect to see what I did,” she said, sitting up a little straighter. She couldn’t quite face Sabrina yet, the images circling in her head just a little too much to contemplate.

“Was it bad?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly, unable to put her vision into words while she was still processing it. “Just…very unexpected. Can I ask,” she said, darting a quick look to the Dark Lord. “What’s your father doing here, ’Brina? I thought He was…trying to bring about Hell on Earth and enslave all mankind?”

“All in good time,” He answered, enjoying the human’s discomfort.

Sabrina shot her father a look. “Not helping.”

“Altruism isn’t a good look on me, daughter,” He said unbothered, focusing His attention on taking a peek inside her friend’s mind to witness a future the seer couldn’t bring herself to say.

The details were fuzzier than He would have liked, but He recognized the Academy as the backdrop, just as He was certain who the two occupants in the room were.

As much as He enjoyed and thrilled at the activities taking place on one of the beds, there was something off about the space. The paintings weren’t right, neither were the statues. The satanic renderings of famous witches and warlocks that had once adorned the crimson walls had been replaced by deities He did not recognize. The sculptures, however, were clearly serpentine in nature. Apparently, the pagans were going to be more of a thorn than He’d first thought.

Lucifer turned His attention back to the bed and watched as His hands traced symbols onto Sabrina’s pale skin. He didn’t think much of it, enjoying the passionate display taking place before him, until He recognized the symbol for sword and Heaven. They were summoning a weapon, _His_ weapon. One He had once used to command legions of angels before His fall from grace. The two wounds on His back twinged at the memory.

The shock was enough to remove Him from the vision, where Sabrina and the mortal sat in awkward silence. He was spared from silent teen angst when the garage door crashed open revealing Theo, holding a shovel above his head, ready to strike.“Theo?” said Sabrina, startled by his appearance.

The Dark Lord snapped His fingers and the shovel disappeared.

“I came as soon as I could,” said the young teen, lowering his empty hands. “When you left with the Dark Lord, I faked sick to get out of class—Roz!” he said, realizing he had three sets of eyes on him. Forgetting the devil’s presence, Theo jumped over the couch and wrapped his arms around his friend. “You’re back! I’m so happy to see you. How—”

“Sabrina…and the Dark Lord,” she explained quietly, still wary of the former King of Hell and whatever relationship He had forged with her best friend. “They formed some type of deal. Where’s Harvey?” she asked, surprised that her boyfriend was not among the faces present.

“I’m not sure,” said Sabrina. “He wasn’t at school today and his vehicle wasn’t here when we arrived.”

“I might know a little something about that,” said Theo, hesitantly. He wasn’t looking forward to revealing the tidbit he had gleaned at school, knowing Sabrina was going to react poorly.

“Theo?” questioned Sabrina, not liking the tone she was getting from him.

“Don’t be mad—”

“Theo!” commanded Sabrina, her eyes flashing white. “Where’s Harvey?”

“W-when I was in the office getting signed out, I heard Mrs. Meeks talking to the principal about how Billy Marlin, Carl Tapper, Ed Dursley and Seth Grinwis never showed up to school this morning. I didn’t think much of it, until I heard some of the Ravenettes talking about a group of students who went to the carnival last night, after hours. Harvey’s name was one of them.”

The Dark Lord watched enthralled as His daughter’s anger exploded into life, calling to something dark and primal inside Him that itched for release. She was truly glorious in her rage. He could picture her standing in battle on a slaughtered pile of Heavenly Host, bold and bloodied, and both terrifying and magnificent to behold. His blood stirred at the thought.

“Of all the irresponsible—” Sabrina couldn’t even finish the sentence she was so angry. “I told you guys to stay away from there! The pagans are dangerous. For the love of Heaven, they’re the one who turned Roz into stone!”

“I’m just the messenger, ‘Brina,” said Theo, trying to placate the irate witch. “Obviously I would have tried to stop him if I knew what he’d been up to."

The boy’s candid response seemed to deflate Sabrina’s fury, leaving nothing but a frightened, young half-witch in its place, much to the Dark Lord’s disappointment. He wanted wrath and ruin and a blood-soaked field of bodies. He needed to kill something to wipe away the… _good_ He’d done today.

“I guess I’m off to the carnival,” said Sabrina, rekindling the Dark Lord’s hope for murder and mayhem.

“We’ll come too—”

“No Roz,” cut off Sabrina, voice brooking no argument. “Lucifer and I will handle the pagans. You were a Roz-shaped statue, like five minutes ago. You and Theo stay here, just in case Harvey does come back—”

“But Sabrina,” interrupted Theo, shooting nervous glances at the Dark Lord. “Are you going to be safe out there…just the two of you?”

“Sabrina is the Queen of Hell, boy,” said Lucifer Morningstar, enjoying the boy’s squeamishness at His presence. “I would cut down any fool that dared touch my daughter-”

Sabrina felt her heart pick up slightly at the warm words.

“-and I would smite all generations of the fool who caused my wife injury.”

The last words were a blanket of cold water to Sabrina, dreading the silence that had fallen on the group. She hadn’t planned on sharing that piece of information, well, ever, if she was being honest. She knew her friends had a difficult time understanding, and at times even supporting, the witch side of her. She knew explaining anything to do with the new Hell-side of her would fly completely overhead.

Roz was the first to snap out of the stupor His words had inflicted. “Did you say—”

“Wife?” repeated Theo, turning on Sabrina with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“ _Future_ ,” corrected Sabrina, glaring at the Dark Lord. “Pending the retrieval of the last artifact of the Unholy Regalia.”

“How—”

“Why—”

“It’s complicated,” began Sabrina, interrupting both of her friends before they could bombard her with questions. “I don’t have time—and Harvey definitely doesn’t have time for me to go into details right now. We can talk about this when I get back. For now,” she said, walking over to Lucifer’s side, “the devil and I are late for a date at the carnival.”

* * *

Robin Goodfellow wished he had never gotten caught up with Pan and his plans to reawaken the Old Gods. The first time he felt the call to leave, was after witnessing Circe slit the throat of an unfortunate carnival patron. The second time he’d felt the twinge, Theo had come to school despondent about his ‘ _very sick_ ’ friend Roz. He’d finally hit his third.

When Circe had asked him to watch some human prisoners for her that had broken into the carnival the previous evening trying to vandalize their property and kidnap her, he hadn’t given it much thought. Not until he had come face to face with Harvey Kinkle.

“You’re one of them?” he accused, glaring at the green-haired boy. “What kind of sick fuck are you? Does Theo know your part of a travelling group of murderous witches.”

“Pagans,” corrected Robin absently. “Harvey,” he said, looking on the brown-haired boy with a frown. “What are you doing here? I thought Sabrina, of all people, would have warned you not to come—how dangerous this place is.”

“What do you know about Sabrina?” asked Harvey suspiciously.

“She’s a witch, isn’t she?” he asked. He could have sworn he’d seen her on Ostra, dressed in a flower garland and white lace dress. “She’s one of your friends. Her Coven’s aware of us.”

“Ya, she warned us.”

“Then why, in the name of all that is green and good, would you come here, and endanger other humans along with you?” he asked, surmising the pigs chained up near the boy to be fellow victims of the transformative witch.

“For Roz,” the Kinkle boy said desperately. “Your snake charmer turned my girlfriend to stone. I just wanted her back. I didn’t think—”

“You really didn’t think,” he agreed, going to one of the side panels on the tent to peek through, and check to see if anyone was around. “Lucky for you, the pagans are planning a slaughter that I will not be party to.” He grabbed a knife from Circe’s table and cut the rope holding Harvey captive. “I’ll get you out of here, Harvey,” promised Robin. “All I ask in return, is asylum from the pagans and satanic witches.”

* * *

Sabrina walked with Lucifer along the road to Professor Carcosa’s Traveling Carnival and Phantasmagoria. He looked out of place in His three-piece suit, but He didn’t seem to mind the mud or dust collecting on His shoes—shoes, plural she thought confused.

“A glamour,” explained Satan, enjoying the surprise on her face. “I don’t need to read your mind, Sabrina,” He said dryly, “you were staring so hard at my feet, I was beginning to think you were trying to will them on fire.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, not entirely sure why she was apologizing.

“You have no reason to be, daughter. Just the opposite,” He said with a roguish grin. “I want you to look at me, just as you are now.” 

“And how am I looking at you now?” asked Sabrina, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“Like you want to devour me.”

She could feel the telltale heat on her neck and face from where she was blushing and didn’t hazard a response. Instead, she let her mind wander off to how she was going to save Harvey from the pagans, when a grimmer thought struck her and she began to pray to Satan there would still be a Harvey to save. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t realize they had arrived until she walked straight into Lucifer.

The carnival was eerily still, despite it being the middle of the day. If Sabrina hadn’t known better, she would have thought the place had been abandoned entirely, a ghost park in the middle of the woods—it would have fit Greendale perfectly. The lone gate to enter the premises was shut and precariously locked, and neither party could make out a single person between the rows of tents and booths set up past the entrance.

“Do you think anyone’s here?” asked Sabrina, staring skeptically into the empty park.

“Only one way to find out,” He said, offering her His arm.

The gate snapped easily under the Dark Lord's touch, allowing Him to lead Sabrina down one of the open lanes to the centre of the park. As they approached the rides, a veil lifted and both parties could feel a mass of eyes on them. One by one pagans began flooding out of their tents, encircling the pair.

“I don’t sense much power here, daughter,” advised Lucifer, looking around the crowd unimpressed. “There are no Lesser Gods, nor magic present." He sniffed the air and added, "and I cannot smell a mortal soul. How shall we proceed?”

“They turned my friend to stone, terrorized my coven, and likely kidnapped my ex-boyfriend. I’m thinking we leave a calling card,” she said, smiling mischievously up at the devil. “A large one.”

Satan relished her answer, and under His will, the park came to life. Rides whirred to life, lights flashed, and a familiar waltz played over the intercom, filling the park with music. “May I have this dance, daughter?” He asked, removing her hand from His arm, to gently kiss the back.

“I’m not really dressed—”

He snapped His fingers, and she was suddenly wearing a very daring, gold, backless evening gown.

“You were saying?” He asked, holding her hand.

“I'd be delighted.”

The pagans watched confused as the pair began to waltz in the small space they had been cornered, neither appearing bothered as the crowd closed in.

A malevolent breeze circled the carnival, but the damned souls enclosing the pair did not notice until it was too late to escape. While Lucifer and Sabrina danced, tents were ripped from the ground, rides rent and tipped over, and flesh stripped from bone as it whipped in a frenzy all around the pair. There would be no quarter given by the devil or His daughter, for when the wind finally died, and the unlucky few who survived the squall, fire rained down from heaven and razed what was left until all was ash.


	14. Razing Pagans, pt. 2

Harvey and Robin had just managed to load the last of the squealing Baxter High Ravens into Harvey’s truck, when a large gale began whipping the trees around where he’d parked, forcing both males to duck for cover under the vehicle to avoid being mangled or bruised by broken boughs and lashing branches. When the random torrent faded to nothing, Harvey was prepared to chalk it up to the peculiarity of the town and crawl out from under the truck when Robin’s next words stopped him cold.

“I think your friend knows you were taken.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, following the pagan’s gaze to a small clearing in the trees. The sky above the carnival was overtaken by a large, black, funnel cloud spitting fire and dousing the park in flames. “What on Earth…”

“Wrong plain, Harvey,” corrected Robin nervously. “That’s Hellfire.”

“You think that’s Sabrina?” asked Harvey.

“Do you know any other satanic witches with missing friends and a grudge with pagans?”

“Good point,” he said, watching worriedly as the flames around the park grew larger and brighter, consuming everything. “Do you think she’s okay in there? I mean, do you think she was able to get out of the park? The carnival looks like one big bonfire.”

“I don’t know,” replied Robin. “I haven’t had many dealings with her kind before. I didn’t know witches could even summon Hellfire.”

“Sabrina’s the Queen of Hell.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s a recent development. I’m still wrapping my head around it.”

“So the Dark Lord…”

“Flesh prison,” replied Harvey. “He was locked away inside Sabrina’s boyfriend, Nick, for a while. Now He’s locked up in someone else, chained up in the basement of her witch school.”

“I’m glad I’m on your side.”

“I would be too, seeing that firestorm.”

They stayed huddled under the safety of Harvey’s pick-up until the flames died down to smoke. When they finally crawled out from underneath the truck, everything was buried under a light coat of ash. Making sure the tailgate was secure, Harvey checked on the four hogs in his truck for injuries, before turning on Robin.

“We should really see if she’s okay,” said Harvey, staring off toward the desolate remains of the park through the surviving trees. “If she did this for me, she must be really worried. I don’t want her to set fire to the town next if she can’t find me.”

Robin sighed. “You’re probably right.”

* * *

Harvey and Robin scrambled through the smattering of trees separating his vehicle from the charred remains of Professor Carcosa’s Traveling Carnival and Phantasmagoria. Almost everything had been reduced to cinders, and with the continuous rain of ash pouring down over top of them, visibility was terrible for the two boys.

Robin placed a hand on Harvey’s shoulder to stop him, holding a finger to his lips as he strained to listen ahead. He could faintly make out the sound of music. It was a hauntingly beautiful piece that wasn’t entirely out of place in the wreckage of the park.

“What is it?” asked Harvey, trying to hear whatever pushed Robin to stop.

“Music. I hear music up ahead.”

Robin took the lead and followed his ears. He tracked the noise to just beyond the molten remains of the carousel, sitting haphazardly on its side, with the melted and deformed remains of animals appearing as grotesque demons skewered to a board.

“I recognize that music,” whispered Harvey, his face the picture of concentration as he tried to place the ballad in his memory.

Both boys managed to navigate to the edge of the merry-go-round, looking around the platform to see the strangest sight.

“Who’s that dancing with Sabrina?” asked Robin, squinting to catch a better glimpse of the well-dressed man, leading her in a waltz around the only patch of green in a sea of black and grey. Somehow, both parties untouched by the heavy deluge of ash.

“Th-that’s Sabrina’s dad,” said Harvey, voice strangled.

“You don’t mean—”

“Satan,” he agreed, reading the young hobgoblin’s mind.

“I thought—”

“He was,” insisted Harvey. “As of two days ago, He was.”

They both peered back around the platform, just as the music stopped.

* * *

The magic Sabrina felt surrounding her was heady and invigorating. As Lucifer led her around the small patch of green to The Mephisto Waltz, she could feel her power flexing and coursing inside her, leaving her near breathless with want. If this was how the Dark Lord felt all the time, she was beginning to understand why He was so damned arrogant. The sheer and absolute strength that radiated off Him as He manipulated the world around them was beyond intoxicating.

She was saddened when the music came to a close.

Ever the noble, He kissed the back of her hand when they’d stopped. The energy stirred by the magic they’d created persisted, and she was suddenly struck by the idea her hand wasn’t the only part of her she wanted His mouth on.

“Something on your mind, daughter?” He asked, enjoying her little pants and rapid pulse.

Unbidden, an image of Lucifer on His knees came to mind, and she had to force herself to shake her head. “N-no.”

As if reading her thoughts, He leaned down and pressed His lips to the seal on her neck, causing her knees to buckle. “I am but a servant, my Queen,” He whispered in her ear. “Is there nothing you desire?”

“Lucifer—” her eyes punched wide open as she felt His warm hand tease the inside of her thigh through the long slit in her dress. She gripped His jacket with both hands and bit back a moan when that hand drifted higher and began to stroke her centre, already damp with need.

He loved how responsive she was. His only source of complaint with the whole situation were the two wastes of skin watching by the carousel. He had her turned in such a way that the most they saw was her standing close to Him. His hands, and hers, artfully concealed by her tempting body.

When she didn’t tell Him to stop, His fingers slipped through her panties and set to work on that small bundle of nerves between her legs, alternating between flicking her clit and palming her centre until she was half-mad with need. He groaned seeing her little pink tongue, complete with His seal, poke through her teeth as she bit the appendage to keep from crying out.

When He’d worked her to the edge, He looked over her shoulder to make eye contact with her former beau, before using His free hand to tilt her head up to claim her lips possessively with His own, swallowing her scream when He pressed two fingers into her tight, hot core as she came.

Her hooded eyes, rouged cheeks, and swollen lips forced His hand to make some adjustments of His own, before her friends could make a nuisance of themselves and announce their presence. “Magic is a strong stimulant, daughter. The more powerful the magic, the more it stirs and heats the blood. You are Queen, Sabrina. Never deny yourself what you desire, especially when it is freely given.”

She nodded, absently, still riding the high off their magic and joining.

When she finally had the wherewithal to remember her surroundings, Sabrina looked upon the ruins of the carnival impressed. “I hope the message is clear.”

The devil laughed. “I believe it is, daughter, but we can always call again if the need arises.”

Sabrina heard someone shout her name and looked behind her to see none other than Harvey, and Theo’s friend, Robin, standing awkwardly by the half-melted carousel. She shot Lucifer a scathing look. “Did you—”

“I knew they were watching,” He admitted.

“How could you—”

“Peace, daughter,” He said, placing a hand on the small of her back. “They saw nothing of your enjoyment or my machinations, only my kissing you at the end.”

Her blush darkened, but she nodded, appeased. She waved over the two, relieved they were okay, but struggling to come up with an explanation for what they had seen.

They approached cautiously, cognizant of who Sabrina’s companion was.

“Hey ‘Brina,” greeted Harvey, eyes darting every so often to her father, who remained uncaring of the boy’s appearance.

“Harvey,” she welcomed happily. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” She hugged her ex to show her relief, before hauling back a fist to slug him hard in the shoulder. “Are you nuts, Harvey Kinkle?” she yelled. “I warned you not to come to the carnival. Do you know how worried you made Theo and Roz—”

“Roz?” he repeated hopeful.

“Yes,” grumbled Sabrina. “Roz too. She’s awake. A fact you’d already be aware of if you had just waited like I asked.”

Harvey picked up Sabrina and twirled her around, ecstatic by the news. “Thank you, ‘Brina,” he said, placing her back onto her feet, his face open and sincere. “I know I was a dick to you yesterday, and I’m sorry. You really came through.”

“As touching as this is,” said the Dark Lord, rolling His eyes at the teenage drama unfolding, “you are aware the other boy in your company is a creature—a pagan creature, are you not?”

Sabrina gasped, already lifting a hand to cast a spell on Robin. She was thrown off when Harvey, of all people, jumped in front of him to protect the boy.

“Robin’s the one who rescued me from the carnival, ‘Brina. After everything I did last night, he could have left me there to die, but he didn’t. He even helped me rescue the four guys who came with me—”

“Yes, where are they, by the way?” asked Sabrina, looking around.

“One of the witches—”

“Circe,” offered Robin.

“Circe turned them into pigs. We managed to corral them into my truck, but…I’m going to need a hand turning them back,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck

“Do my ears deceive me, or is Harvey Kinkle asking a witch to perform magic?”

“I know, I know,” said Harvey, trying to back-peddle. “I realize I haven’t been as supportive or understanding a friend as I could be, especially when it comes to magic and you being a witch, but I could really use a hand here, Sabrina. These guys came here because of me. I owe them.”

The Dark Lord did not care for His daughter’s first love. Following their separation, the boy had cut her down, shunned her heritage, made her cry, seduced her friend, then demanded favours. He was beginning to think there was a special place in Hell for Harvey Kinkle, but as always, His daughter gave the boy _carte blanche_ with her help.

“Of course I’ll reverse the spell,” she agreed, readily.

“Thanks, ‘Brina.”

* * *

Sabrina stared down at the four pigs running around the back of Harvey’s truck with some amusement. After the number of girls Billy Marlin and his crew had run through, she thought the transformation rather fitting. Too bad she didn’t agree with torture. She whispered a quick incantation, transforming them back to their human selves, and knocked them out right away with a quick memory spell to remove any time they spent as animals.

“They won’t remember a thing,” she promised Harvey, as we was getting ready to leave. The four footballers were sleeping peacefully in the bed of the truck, while Robin sat shotgun. “Just tell them you guys were tailgating before heading to the carnival, and they passed out before you could enter. The spell should fill in the rest.”

“Thanks again, ‘Brina,” said Harvey, from the driver’s seat of his red pick-up. “Do you think you’re going to be able to drop by later?” he asked.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, confused by the request. She would have thought Harvey and Roz would want to catch up after their harrowing experiences.

“It’s been a long time since all of us hung out,” he said, shrugging. “I figured there may be some stuff to catch us up on,” he said, shooting a meaningful glance at her father, before driving away.

Sabrina relaxed when she could no longer see the back of Harvey’s pick-up. Between the Dark Lord telling Roz and Theo that she was His intended, and Harvey and Robin witnessing what they did, she wasn’t looking forward to their next reunion.

She felt a hand on her hip and turned to face her father.

“I believe I’ve been away from Hell long enough that my absence will be noted,” He told her.

“I guess you’re going back?” she said, wondering why she felt so disappointed.

“For now,” He agreed, leaning down to kiss her chastely on the mouth. “I will be back, daughter. Even the hordes could not stop me if you called.”

The Dark Lord disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Sabrina standing in the middle of a clearing dressed in a gold evening gown and blush.


	15. The Break-Up

Sabrina debated with herself on what to do next. She’d promised her aunts and cousin, that if she went to Lucifer for His help or to make a deal, she had to come clean right away. With the smoldering remains of the carnival behind her, she didn’t think it was going to be long before the news hit Greendale of the fire, and her aunts put two and two together. One quick twirl, and wardrobe change, later, she was off to Gehenna Station to speak to the Directrix.

* * *

Sabrina was never going to get used to the attention that followed her, she decided, walking into the Academy, feeling every set of eyes follow her up to her aunt Zelda’s office, where, upon entering, she found herself the concentrated focus of two powerful witches.

“Auntie Zee. Lilith,” she greeted, shutting the door behind her.

“Raise a little Hell, did we, Sabrina?” asked Lilith, taking in the smell of brimstone following the white-haired witch around like a beacon announcing her dalliance with the Dark Lord.

“I can explain,” she said quickly, appealing to her aunt. “You told me to come to you right away whenever I had dealings with the Dark Lord. I’m here,” she pointed out.

“Go on,” said her aunt, giving nothing away as to what she was thinking.

“Part of the original bargain I struck with the Dark Lord involved the safety of my friends,” Sabrina said quietly.

“Surprise surprise,” muttered the Mother of Monsters.

“I told you yesterday before Father Blackwood's trial, that Roz had been turned to stone, Auntie Zee. I didn’t mention, that while I was in Hell, dropping off Pontius Pilate’s bowl, I asked Lucifer if He could reverse the spell on Roz, like He did with Dorcas.”

She could feel her aunt’s disappointment like a stab in the gut.

“Go on, Sabrina,” said her aunt, motioning for her to continue.

“He…The Dark Lord said He would come to me with an answer today…”

“And?” prompted Zelda.

“He brought Roz back—”

“Did he?” asked Lilith, surprised, deciding to file that morsel away for later.

Sabrina nodded. “Only, that wasn’t the only thing,” she said, preparing herself for a dress down when she managed to get through the rest.

“Don’t stop now, Sabrina,” urged Lilith. “What else did you and the Dark Lord get up to today?”

“After Roz was brought back, Theo came around and let it slip that Harvey had gone to the carnival last night, and never came home. Him and four others from Baxter High.”

Zelda’s face remained resolutely blank as Sabrina continued to argue her case.

“I warned them how dangerous it was, Aunt Zelda,” she said, voice pleading for her to understand. “We went to the carnival to see if we could find him…but,” her mind supplied the image of dozens of pagans surrounding her and Lucifer when He’d asked her to dance. “Lucifer said there were no humans there; there weren’t any Lesser Gods or pagan witches either,” she added, thinking back. “After everything they did to our family, our Coven, and my friends, I…”

“You decided to be a Hellblazer and re-enact one of the ten plagues of Egypt with the devil?” supplied Lilith.

“Something to that effect,” said Sabrina petulantly.

“What did the Dark Lord want in return for His help?” asked Zelda. In truth, she was not upset over the destruction of the pagans’ carnival. No, they had done enough to her Coven and family to warrant such retaliation. Witches Law supported Sabrina’s actions, in effect, she was following the doctrines of the Path of Night, one which demanded blood for blood. As always, Zelda’s fear laid with the price her niece would have to pay.

“Nothing,” she said honestly. “When we realized Harvey, Pan, and the pagan witches weren’t there, He asked me to dance.”

“You danced the Waltz Macabre?” asked Lilith, once again surprised by the Dark Lord’s actions.

“Is that the same thing as the Mephisto Waltz?”

“It’s old magic, Sabrina,” explained Lilith. “An archaic form of conjuring—a perversion, if you will, created by the Dark Lord to mock the purity of the choirs of angels in Heaven. Under the False God's teaching, it is said that there will peace on Earth when angels sing. The spell feeds on emotion, and in the correct sequence, unleashes…”

“Hell?” supplied Sabrina.

“Why, yes.”

“We shall have to take some added precaution at home and at the Academy for the next while,” said Zelda eventually. “If Pan and his witches were not present for the burning, I’m sure they’ll be upset to learn what’s happened, and by who—Hellfire isn’t exactly subtle, niece. Be careful, Sabrina. The fringe pagans have lasted as long as they have for a reason. I don’t want you taking any more risks until they’ve been brought to heel.”

* * *

Sabrina was excused from the office, her aunt satisfied with her obedience in reporting to her right away as promised. It was Lilith that followed her out and began walking with her to one of the Demonology seminars Zelda had scheduled the Mother of Monsters to lead.

“So,” she began, keeping stride with the young Queen of Hell. “You went to the Dark Lord to save humans?”

“I did,” agreed Sabrina. “I went to the Dark Lord to save you too, Lilith.”

The reminder caused the demoness to falter. “So you did,” she agreed, catching her bearings. “Instead of four-hundred years of torture in the Pit of Despair, I’m now a servant to education and hormonal magic practitioners.”

“What are you trying to ask me, Lilith?”

“What were you prepared to offer for His help? The Dark Lord hates mortals, they’re a constant reminder of His unresolved Daddy issues. He is merciless, vain, and selfish…and yet He has allowed me to live and voluntarily saved mortals at your request.”

“He wasn’t exactly happy about it,” offered Sabrina.

“I would think not,” agreed Lilith, “but He did agree.”

“We have a deal—”

“Yes, I’m all too aware of your bargains with the Dark Lord,” she said, cutting off the young witch. “He never does anything out of the kindness of His heart, Sabrina, and He always leaves Himself loopholes in His contracts. He prides Himself on His ability to deceive. What has He asked from you? What have you offered Him?”

“He's only ever asked me to think of Him, but, Lilith, I would have given Him anything,” admitted Sabrina. “Harvey, Roz, and Theo are my friends. They’ve literally been to Hell and back for me. While you’ve manipulated me and stabbed me in the back more than once, you also helped me dethrone the Dark Lord and try to help me with my duties in Hell. Isn’t there anyone you would go to any length to protect?”

For the first time since Adam’s death, his face popped up Lilith’s head. “Once,” she allowed. “For all the good it did me.” At Sabrina’s questioning glance, she continued. “The Dark Lord served me his head on a platter and forced me to dine on his flesh for my perceived disloyalty.”

“Holy Heaven! Why?”

“Adam wanted to take me away,” said Lilith quietly, “and I was going to let him.”

“Who—”

“His name was Adam—not that Adam,” she clarified, immediately. “Mary Wardwell’s Adam.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sabrina, thinking it odd to see Madam Satan with such a vulnerable expression on her face, but it lasted only for a second. In a blink, Lilith was back to the same cool and collected demoness Sabrina had come to know.

“I’m alive, Sabrina,” she said, shrugging, “and I mean to stay that way.”

* * *

Class was awkward for a couple of reasons. The first being, Sabrina had found herself the unequivocal source of all gossip at the Academy. The second reason, was because her boyfriend was there and refused to acknowledge her presence—a fact that did not help with the aforementioned gossip.

As Lilith stood at the front of the class, she began imagining in vivid, glorious, detail, flaying and setting fire to all the brats currently sitting before her. Trying to keep the attention and teach the juvenile witches and warlocks, too preoccupied with their white-haired peer, was infuriating. She _was_ the first witch in existence, the former handmaiden to Satan, once Queen—albeit briefly—of Hell, no one ignored her.

“Since you all seem to have a subject in mind,” started Lilith. “Perhaps you’d like to bring it before the class, so we can get some work done here today?”

For the first time since Sabrina walked into the classroom, it was silent.

“No takers?” pressed the Mother of Monsters, looking over her students. “You were all so…conversational a second ago. Devil got your tongues?”

“Demon pacts,” one of the pests spoke up.

“Are you looking to strike a bargain, Mr. Scratch?” asked Lilith, voice chiding as she regarded the angry youth.

“Hardly,” he replied evenly, “but it seems to be the flavour of the day around here, so why not help us have a better understanding of it. Help us appreciate the importance of placement.”

“It sounds like you have all the answers you need,” countered the demoness, unimpressed by his tirade.

“The only student at the Academy who needs instruction from you, is Sabrina.”

“And why is that Nicholas?”

“Hasn’t she taken up your mantle, Lilith?” he asked cruelly. “I mean, if you’re here and not in Hell servicing the Dark Lord, then that must mean you’re here to groom someone else for the position.”

“Careful now,” she warned, approaching Nick’s desk. “The Dark Lord doesn’t suffer fools, Mr. Scratch. As someone who's spent more than their fair share of time in close proximity to the Dark Lord, you should know His temper by now. I wouldn't be so quick to slander the Queen of Hell, you never know who might be listening.”

Nick stood from his seat so violently, that his books and pens went flying. Without saying another word, he walked out of the class, slamming the door behind him. It took all of two seconds for Sabrina to make up her mind to follow him. It took the rest of the class, less.

Sabrina ran after her boyfriend as if the Hounds of Hell were on her heels, only catching up to Nick after he’d stormed into the library, startling Ambrose and Prudence who had been in the middle of discussing an old tome on alternative magics.

“Nick, wait!" called Sabrina desperately. "Please! Can’t we talk about this?” She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder when he finally stopped walking away from her, recoiling in shock when he smacked her hand away and faced her. “I tried to find you yesterday, but Dorian said you wouldn’t see me.”

“What’s there to talk about Sabrina? Or should I call you Madam Satan now?” he asked, looking down at her with a mix of pity and disgust.

“Oh Nicky, do grow up,” said Prudence, moving to place herself between the two. “The only reason this school stands, and you still have a Coven, is because Sabrina sold herself to the Dark Lord.”

“I didn’t sell myself to the Dark Lord, Prudence!” argued Sabrina.

“So you gave yourself to Him freely?” she challenged.

“No, I…we made a contract.”

“Like I said, Nicky,” continued Prudence, hissing at the dark-haired warlock, “the only reason this school still stands, and you have your powers back, is because Sabrina sold herself to the Dark Lord. You should try cutting her some slack—maybe even thank her.”

“Bud out, Prudence! This is none of your concern,” shouted Nick, drawing the small crowd that had followed them, and the few extras who had already been studying in the library, into the heated discussion going on between him and Sabrina.

“Nick, you have to believe that I didn’t want this—”

“That’s such horse shit, Sabrina!” he said, cutting her off. “The Dark Lord would have never have been able to sign His contract on your tongue, or on your neck for that matter, if you weren’t completely willing to receive it,” he said furiously. “I was in the Church during Father Blackwood’s Trial. I saw how you reacted to Him. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing more for us to talk about! You’re not the witch I thought you were. I loved the girl who stood up to Father Blackwood, braved expulsion for what she believed in, and took a stand against the devil? Why don’t you tell me what happened to her if you’re so keen to talk?”

“She nearly got her boyfriend killed and her Coven destroyed,” she replied, feeling her eyes begin to well up.

“You know, I don’t know what’s more pathetic, Sabrina,” he said quietly, his voice more cutting now than when he’d been yelling at her. “How delusional you are, or how desperate you seem to be for daddy’s dick! I knew you were saving yourself for someone, Sabrina, it’s just not who either of us expected.”

He brushed past her and out of the library without another word, leaving Ambrose to reach out for his distraught cousin, and try to console her broken heart.


	16. A New Alliance

Faustus had been running nonstop since he’d recovered the Time Egg from the Academy. A few times, the Hounds chasing him had been near successful, but he’d not been granted the position of High Priest for nothing. He had hidden the Egg in his ex-wife’s grave, having no current sacrifice to offer the Eldritch Terrors. That led him to the second-worst decision of his life—after allowing the half-breed into his Academy: appealing to the pagans for sanctuary and assistance.

Faustus was dragged before Pan and his gorgon mistress, Nagaina, with his arms tied behind his back. Had he not already suffered the indignity of being overlooked by the Dark Lord for a half-breed, he might have been insulted at the treatment, but now he was enlightened. Never again would he misplace his devotion to the hands of a tempestuous angel.

“Why have you come here, warlock?” asked Pan, regarding the Satan worshiper with mistrust.

“I seek an alliance with you,” replied Faustus. “Your enemy is my enemy. The Church of Night betrayed me and I wish them dead.”

“Go on.”

* * *

The humans that attempted to vandalize the carnival nearly threw a spanner into Faustus’ plans. Luckily for him, he recognized the boy, giving the former High Priest grounds to prove his allegiance to the pagans.

* * *

Pan and Nagaina looked onto the ashen remains of their livelihood, still smoldering from when the white-haired witch and Satan had danced the waltz macabre, rendering their park charcoal. Nothing was spared by the satanic witch and her lover. Standing in the trees with them, Circe held the uprooted Green Man, along with a few other loyal followers, and the former High Priest of the Church of Night.

“Did I not warn you the girl had aligned herself with the Devil, and when you captured her human pet, she would come.” In truth, Sabrina and the Dark Lord had done far more than Faustus could have hoped. The seed in Pan’s ear was enough to allow Faustus to throw a veil over the park, as Pan’s most trusted followers were led into the forest to wait and watch. Sabrina and the Dark Lord came to the park as expected, laid ruin to the carnival grounds, and provided quite the show for the pagans.

“It was as you say, Faustus,” observed Pan. “We will give you sanctuary against the devil who hunts you, in return for our aid, you will give us the virgin witch, Sabrina for our offering to the Green Man. You have promised us the blood of your Coven, but I have seen the numbers of your flock, there are not enough for us to nourish our God, and for whatever offerings you have besides.”

“That problem, is a matter of timing,” replied Faustus. “I have in my possession an object that could return us to before Sabrina’s ascension, and to when our numbers were many.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

* * *

Sabrina had not spoken a word since Nick's departure. Between Prudence and Ambrose, they managed to clear the onlookers of the break-up, but Sabrina remained still and unresponsive.

Ambrose wasn’t sure what more he could do for his cousin, but he figured the Academy was probably the worst place for her. He was saved the trouble of figuring out how to get her home, when Lilith walked in.

The Mother of Demons took one look at Sabrina and placed her hands on the girl, both of them vanishing in a cyclone of fire.

* * *

It took a few minutes for Sabrina to realize she was in Pandemonium. She was not in the throne room, or any other area of Hell she’d seen before, but the assortment of reds, oranges, yellows, and golds adorning the place were a dead giveaway.

“Lilith?” she said, looking around confused.

“You’re in the Royal Suites, Sabrina,” said Lilith, watching the girl concerned. She was a confident and plucky little thing and seeing her so defeated felt wrong. Madam Satan wasn’t one to take pity on anyone, mortal, infernal, or celestial alike—but the girl was growing on her. She was going soft, perhaps a result of spending too much time among mortals.

“Why am I here?”

“From what I heard, you had a spectacularly public row with Mr. Scratch in the Library. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with the gossip circling the Academy.”

“Thank you, Lilith,” she said honestly, feeling much more at ease in Hell than she was on Earth these days.

Lilith reached down to wipe a tear from Sabrina’s face. “We couldn’t have anyone seeing you like that,” said the demoness, trying to shrug off her appreciation. “Didn’t anyone tell you? Queens aren’t allowed to cry.”

Sabrina gave a feeble laugh in return. “I know now.”

The doors to Sabrina’s peaceful sanctuary, were tossed open. It was the only warning both women received that the Dark Lord had joined them. He was back in His long gold jacket and black leather pants, and His expression was thunderous.

“What in Heaven is going on?” He demanded, looking between both women. Worry won out over curiosity when He noticed the unshed tears in His daughter’s eyes. “Sabrina? Daughter? Why are you upset?”

She couldn’t say. It felt silly to complain about her ex to her…Lucifer.

“Someone will explain, now!” He demanded. “I walked out of several meetings just now with the Lords and Ladies of Discord who still support the House of Morningstar, because I received word someone had taken over my chambers.”

“Dark Lord—”

“No Lilith,” snapped Lucifer. “I will hear from Sabrina. You are the one who pointed out that any extended contact between us could offer the Plague Kings reason to challenge my daughter’s integrity in the quest.” He looked at Sabrina, holding her gaze as He said, “I am not upset to have you at my side, daughter. I am merely confused why no one sent word first.”

“Discretion was the intention, Dark Lord,” said His former consort.

“Your discretion has informed the court my rooms are being occupied,” He snapped.

“The Queen needed solace from her friends, her peers, and her family,” said Lilith, unapologetic of her actions. “You are Sabrina’s regent, Dark Lord. These rooms belong to her. She is guaranteed privacy in them, while she is in Hell.”

“Nick broke up with me in front of the school,” said Sabrina quietly, pulling the devil’s attention back to His daughter. She didn’t want Lilith to be punished for helping her, despite how embarrassing it was to admit why she was upset.

It was a strange, and alarming experience watching the Dark Lord’s temper dissolve, thought Lilith. Perhaps the girl's destiny was the throne of Pandemonium. Anyone who could temper Satan's anger had to be a higher power, as far as she was concerned. 

“You have incredibly poor taste in boys, Sabrina,” said Lucifer, kneeling down before His daughter.

“What does that say about you?”

“Boys, Sabrina,” He repeated, with an unrepentant grin. “Your taste in men is just fine.” Sparing His former handmaiden a quick glance, He said, “Excuse the Infernal Court, Lilith. You may tell them that the Queen is entertaining my company. Any requests to see her or myself can be made through you.”

“At once, Dark Lord,” she said, bowing and taking her leave.

“I’m entertaining you?” repeated Sabrina, once Lilith had disappeared.

“You are the Queen of Hell,” He said, matter-of-factly. “I am yours to find pleasure or ignore at your leisure. It would reflect poorly on you, if it were observed and believed that I was trying to seduce you. It would make you appear weak. If you chose to entertain me, the power is in your hands—not mine.”

She ducked her head embarrassed. “You are the Dark Lord, the Original Sin, and the First Temptation, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe I seduced you—”

The devil captured Sabrina’s lips with His own, successfully taking her mind off Nick. His kiss was like a shut-off valve to her brain. He picked her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around His waist, before sitting back on the bed with Sabrina cradled in His lap, her hands gravitating to His hair and playing with His soft curls.

He let her push Him until he was lying on His back, her small frame sitting astride His own. His hands wandered over her curves, removing clothes as He sought to feel her bare skin on His own, craving her with a hunger He had not felt before.

Her passion matched His own, satisfying Him immensely, when she began tearing at His layers with the same fierce need to feel skin on skin. She was a pretty, pale, little thing with sweet curves that promised fulfillment as she pressed them into Him. He knew her taste from His dreams and groaned when she began rocking her hips against His own. He pulled his lips away from hers to rip her bra of with His teeth, taking one of her hardened buds in His mouth to suck.

Sabrina cried out with pleasure as Lilith stepped into the Royal Suites, the pretender Prince and Plague Kings in tow.

“My Queen,” she said, interrupting them, surprised by the development she had interrupted, and watching as Lucifer wrapped a strong arm around Sabrina’s back, forcing her chest against His own, and away from the prying eyes of their audience. “Dark Lord, forgive the intrusion. The prince, Caliban, and Plague Kings mean to call for the third challenge of the Unholy Regalia. They refused to wait in the Grand Hall for your summons, believing her highness to be conspiring with you.”

Sabrina’s face was pressed so tight against the Dark Lord's chest, Lilith was surprised she could breathe. As it was, she couldn't seem to find the words to acknowledge or dismiss the group. 

“As you can see, my daughter was exercising her right to pleasure,” stated the Dark Lord, appearing so thoroughly debauched to His onlookers, there was no argument to be made otherwise. “If the Queen’s competitor is satisfied we are not conspiring against him, he and his party can wait for us in the Grand Hall to discuss the final challenge.”

Sabrina didn’t move for several minutes after their witnesses had left the room, still plastered against the Dark Lord in embarrassment, shame, and a dozen or so other emotions she wasn’t ready to identify or name.

“Daughter?”

“What am I doing?” she said, refusing to lift her head to face Him. “I just broke up with Nick. I shouldn’t be—you’re…still my—”

“All excellent facts with a point, I’m sure,” said Lucifer, stroking the back of His daughter’s neck.

She pushed against His chest and covered her own, crawling off His body and scrambling for her shirt and bra that had been thrown to the side of the bed. “This can’t happen again,” she told Him, hurrying to cover herself up.

“Sabrina,” said the Dark Lord, pulling the Queen of Hell back into His lap, and drawing down the neck of her shirt to kiss His mark, “you and I are inevitable. When this quest is over, you and I will be crowned King and Queen of Hell and I will take you as my wife.”

She sucked in a breath. “We can’t,” she protested, doing very little to remove herself from His caress.

“Whether you’re ready to admit it here or not, you desire me, Sabrina,” He whispered in her ear. “You covet my body, you crave my touch, and you melt for my kiss.”

“It’s wrong,” she said, pulling away from Him.

A lesser being might have given up, but Lucifer Morningstar was a celestial.

“Shall you and I make another deal?” He asked, following her off the bed and cornering her by the door.

“We shouldn’t—” she began, gasping when He began nipping at her neck.

“I will not touch you, daughter,” He whispered into her ear. “Not until you ask me. I won’t kiss you until you beg me. I won’t bed you, until you demand it.”

She felt the familiar burn under her ear, and suddenly the Dark Lord released her. “We can’t keep the horde waiting, daughter.”


	17. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just wanted to apologize to everyone in advance, but I'm going to be moving for the next few days, so updates may be a little slim. I'm hoping to be back up to double posts by the weekend. A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting, and leaving Kudos on my little project. It's been and continues to be a pleasure writing for you.
> 
> Cheers, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story as it comes!
> 
> Happy Reading!

The Throne Room was full, all Lord and Ladies of Discord, the Lesser Kings and Queens Hell, and of course, Sabrina’s challenger and his retinue waiting on the Queen of Hell and her consort. Sabrina held her head high, as she walked into her sanctum. Caliban and the Plague Kings may have caught her in flagrante, but as she was constantly reminded, she was a Queen, and she would command respect.

“A thousand apologies, great Lady of Disdain, for interrupting you,” said Beelzebub, upon her entry, the remainder of his party leering at the Queen as she came to stand before them, the Dark Lord to her left, and Lilith joining on her right. “We heard the Dark Lord had been entertaining company in His chambers, we had not expected it would be—”

“My chambers, Beelzebub,” interrupted Sabrina. “You forget yourself, and my station. A...a consort is brought to the Queen, at and for the Queen’s pleasure.”

“My mistake,” corrected the Lord of Flies.

“Do not make it again,” she warned, feeling her father practically vibrating with glee as she dressed down one of His subjects. Lilith couldn’t help her own smile at the teen’s words.

“It is as you say,” said Beelzebub, bowing deeply before reigning monarch of Hell. The demon turned on the crowd, posturing before them as he announced, “my fiends and friends, we have gathered here in Pandemonium to witness the final challenge for the Unholy Regalia: Judas Iscariot’s thirty pieces of silver. Who ever reclaims the prize and presents it before the Unholy Court with be the incontestable ruler of Hell.”

The crowds cheered as Beelzebub finished. The final quest now underway.

“Are you ready, Princess?” asked Caliban, smirking at her, eyes trailing lazily over her figure, picturing the body that had been on display only minutes ago.

“A Queen is always ready,” she returned, turning her back to walk away.

“Indeed, for you will also be my Queen, when I return with the great betrayer’s silver,” he called, earning cackles from the crowd, as he left the halls to begin the quest.

* * *

“That Prince of Clay will never find Judas’ silver,” said the Dark Lord, after the crowd had dispersed to their corners to bet over the outcome of the quest.

“What makes you so sure?” asked Sabrina, looking around them to make sure no one was listening.

“Judas himself was the only person who knows where it is, and I’m the only person who can lead you to him—”

“Careful, Dark Lord,” interrupted Lilith. “You cannot be seen helping Sabrina, or the match could be deemed a forfeit.”

He frowned, looking around the room at all the eyes on them. ‘ _Go to the Ninth Circle, the hottest in Hell_ ,” He instructed, not taking an eye off the crowd _._ “ _In a volcanic cave, embedded in the walls, you will find the three worst betrayers in history, Cassius, Brutus, and Judas Iscariot._ ”

She reached up and cradled the back of His neck, startling His attention back to His daughter in time to receive a chaste kiss.

“For luck,” she whispered, pulling away to begin her trek into the bowels of Hell.

* * *

It was easier than Sabrina would have expected to enter the Nineth Circle of Hell, but she supposed being ruler did come with its perks. As the Dark Lord had described, she could make out three slabs of volcanic rock with the tortured outline of what used to be people, their names inscribed above them.

“Judas Iscariot?”

Sabrina watched fascinated as one of the rock fixtures came to life. “Who is that?”

“Sabrina Morningstar,” she replied. “Daughter of Lucifer Morningstar.”

The name seemed to put him off. “Daughter to the one Himself that put me here.”

Well that’s awkward, she thought, praying to Satan she had not ensured his silence. “I’ve come here, on my own, to ask you the location you hid the thirty pieces of silver you were paid to betray the Nazarene.”

The chief betrayer appeared curious by her request, and asked “what will you give me? What is the secret of their location worth?”

She swallowed dryly, inspiring an offer. “Water,” she offered, her own mouth parched. “The taste of cold water on your lips.” Sabrina could see the desperate hope in his eyes and summoned a pool of cool water above her. “What say you Judas? Tell me how to get the silver, and the water is yours.”

He stared longingly at the cool liquid, floating so close, but not near enough his chapped lips. “There is an easy way, in which the silver simply appears to you, and a harder way, in which you must seek it out.”

“What’s the easy way?”

“All you need is to betray someone you love with a kiss, as I did.”

Sabrina contemplated the option, before ultimately deciding against it. She was broken up with Nick, who had already as good as paired her off with the Dark Lord, she wasn’t quite ready to deal with Harvey and the conversation he’d been hinting to have, and Sabrina had derided Caliban enough that any play she could make on him would be suspicious. “What’s the hard way?” she asked.

“Water, first,” he demanded, and Sabrina complied, lowering the water for him to drink. When he had taken his fill, in a stronger voice he asked, “are you familiar with the Field of Blood?”

“Just that it’s a burial ground.”

“My silver is buried in a crypt with the first vampire. It lies deep beneath the Field of Blood. His name is Vlad the Impaler. The pieces are in a bag at his side. Count them to be sure they are all there.”

* * *

Sabrina ported to Dorian’s Gray Room with a mound of anxiety. She had absolutely no desire to speak with anyone after what had happened earlier. Seeing an opportunity, with no one at the bar or sitting around the parlor, she walked into one of the corridors she knew Dorian’s collection of paintings were kept, and prayed to Satan to get through the last stage of the quest with a modicum of dignity. Searching through his catalogue of works, she found the Field of Blood.

Taking a deep breath, she cast the spell to enter Vlad’s tomb, and walked through the portrait into the unknown

* * *

It all seemed far too easy. Sabrina was staring into the crypt of a lavishly dressed corpse, building herself up to rifle around inside the coffin for Judas’ silver. As luck would have it, there was a coin purse clutched in the corpse’s skeletal hands. She slid the bag out from where it was clutched, moving away from the body to count out the silver she could feel clinking together. She was so preoccupied she had, not realizing the remains she had disturbed had come back to life.

The voice that commanded her was mesmerizing. “Listen to my voice. Hear my words. Your thoughts and your will belong to me, and only me now.” While her body relaxed to the instruction, her mind raced, terrified by her inability to control herself. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she replied, her voice foreign to her own ears.

“Did my father send you?” asked Sabrina’s hijacker.

“No,” she replied, trying to will herself to stop. “Judas did.”

“Judas is my father,” said the deep voice behind her, closer now than before. “The father of vampires. What is your name girl?”

“S-Sabrina.”

“You’re very beautiful, Sabrina,” he told her, seconds before she could feel his hands in her hair. “Say thank you, Sabrina.”

“Thank you,” she complied, disgusted by her captor’s touch.

“You’re going to let me drink your blood and feast on your flesh, aren’t you?” he demanded.

“Of course.”

“That’s a good girl.” His hands brushed against the devil’s mark on her neck, causing her body to recoil at the wrongness of his touch. It set her blood on fire.

Sabrina could feel the Dark Lord’s presence inside her head when two incisors sunk into the side of her neck, and the vampire began to draw her blood.

‘ _Focus on me, Sabrina_ ,’ ordered Lucifer, and his image appeared in her mind. As if waking up from a dream, Sabrina was released from Vlad’s thrall, her mind and actions once again her own. The vampire had withdrawn from her in the same instance. She turned to cast a spell on her assaulter and saw him already on the ground throwing up bile.

“Your blood burns!” he cursed, suddenly terrified of the teen. “You are celestial!” he accused.

“My father was an angel. I have His blood,” she replied.

* * *

She counted the purse four times when she stepped back into Dorian’s Gray Room. Each time, she came back with the same wrong number, twenty. No matter how many times she counted, Sabrina was missing ten silver pieces.

“It’s never that easy,” she cursed, banging her head against the wall.

“Sabrina?”

Her heart lurched and fell to her feet. “Nick,” she said panicked, looking at her ex. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching the bar for Dorian,” he said, folding his arms. “What are you doing here, Sabrina? This is a gentlemen’s club.”

“I-I was just leaving,” she said, moving to walk past him.

“Sabrina, why are you really here?” he asked, putting his arm out to block her.

“Not that it’s any of your business anymore, but I needed a portal to find the Field of Blood. After you—after the Library,” she explained, “I was summoned to fulfill the third and final challenge for the Unholy Regalia. I—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” he exclaimed, his face incredulous as he looked at her.

“Nick, what—”

“How much more of yourself do you plan to give to Hell, Sabrina?” he asked, cutting her off, again. “You got our powers back _and_ secured our Coven’s favour by releasing the Dark Lord, you bought our protection from the pagans; Heaven, you even had two-thirds of the Weird Sisters cured and ensured vengeance against Father Blackwood. Everyone owes you a debt they’ll never be able to repay. Why continue pursuing the crown? Why tie yourself to Him any more than you have already? You're a fighter, Spellman, from the day you said no to Him on your sixteenth birthday. If you took a stand to the Dark Lord tomorrow, you know that your aunts, your cousin, your mortal friends, and I would all support you.”

Her heart broke for him, for her, and the future they would never have. “I love you, Nick,” she said sadly. “I love you so much. I would have done absolutely _anything_ to get you out of Hell, just like I would do anything to keep my family and friends safe.” She reached up to frame his face gently with her hands. “I can’t give up the throne, Nick. I can’t lose this quest.”

“But why, Sabrina?”

“Lucifer refused the initial offers I made Him,” she explained. “When I went to Him to strike our bargain, He refused to return our powers and He wanted our Coven to suffer for our betrayal. His release was one of three things He would accept as payment, the other being His throne...and me.”

Nick was frozen, shocked. Prudence had been right earlier. Sabrina had sold herself to the devil.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cried.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to respond, she lifted up onto her toes and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, before brushing past him to leave. It wasn’t until Sabrina was outside, that she realized her pocket felt heavier. Pulling out the purse holding Judas’ coins, she poured the silver out into her hand and counted thirty.

It had come down to a kiss after all.


	18. Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments about this work! I apologize for the delay in posting. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Harvey could have set a Greendale speed record with how fast he managed to drop off four of Baxter High’s football favourites. He had a girlfriend waiting for him at home, who for the last two days, had been turned to stone. Nothing was going to stop him from getting there as fast as he could.

The gravel laneway protested loudly when he ground his truck to a halt out front of his garage. With only one thing on his mind, Harvey was in such a hurry to get to Roz he left his car door wide-open, prompting Robin, long forgotten in the passenger seat, to lock up and follow in after.

Theo met Robin at the door and smiled shyly at his boyfriend, before both boys ducked into Fright Club central for a reunion two days in the making.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” said Harvey, kissing Roz soundly, before placing smaller kisses all around her face. “I was so worried, Roz. I didn’t know if we were going to be able to save you.”

Her watery smile was bright under her boyfriend’s attention. “I’m alright,” she assured him.

“I thought I was dreaming when Sabrina told me you were back. I rushed home as soon as I could.”

“You never should have gone off on your own like that to begin with, Harvey,” said Theo, standing near the garage door with Robin, trying to give the couple some space. “Sabrina warned us how dangerous the pagans were. You could have been turned to stone too, or worse!”

“I know, I was lucky—”

“Where is Sabrina?” interrupted Roz, looking around for her white-haired friend among the small troupe gathered in Harvey’s garage. “She left to look for you after Theo found out you’d snuck into the carnival.”

Harvey thought back to the last image he had of Sabrina, standing in a backless gold evening gown in a small forest clearing by the charred remains of the carnival, the Dark Lord close behind her in a smart three-piece suit, both immaculate despite the destruction raining down around them, which had rendered his truck, Robin, and himself about fifty shades of grey.

“I didn’t have much room in the truck with Billy and his buddies unconscious in the back, and Robin riding up front, so she opted stayed behind at the carnival,” offered Harvey.

“What remains of the carnival,” corrected Robin.

“What do you mean, remains?” asked Theo, confused.

Harvey took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to describe what he had witnessed, but Robin stepped in to take up the explanation of what happened, knowing he would inevitably have a few bombs to drop himself on his unsuspecting new love.

“I was at the carnival when Harvey was taken prisoner by Circe,” revealed Robin, waiting for the questions that were sure to follow, half-dreading the reactions he was sure to receive.

“What were you doing at the carnival, Robin?” asked Theo, as if suddenly aware how strange it was that Robin had driven in with Harvey. “Were you part of the group that went last night with Harvey?”

“…No,” he replied sadly. “I actually have a confession to make.” He grabbed Theo’s hands and squeezed. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this secret from you, but until very recently, I was a part of the group that you guys are up against.”

“What are you saying, Robin?” asked Theo, his boyfriend’s sudden apprehension feeding his nerves. “Are you a pagan?”

“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “I’m not human, Theo, and until very recently, I was working alongside Pan at the carnival. I-I left them because I couldn’t—I don’t want what they want. I like it here in Greendale, I like being with you. I can’t be any part of their plans.”

“Robin rescued me from the carnival, guys,” jumped in Harvey, offering support to the other male. “One of their witches turned Billy and the gang into pigs. She was holding on to me for something else, but Robin stepped in to rescue me. If he hadn’t, I would have been fire fodder.”

“Fire fodder?” repeated Roz.

“Oh yeah,” said Harvey. “Sabrina torched the place, it’s nothing but smoke and embers now.”

“Sabrina! Our Sabrina? She burned down a carnival?” asked Theo, horrified at the thought.

“That’s not exactly how it went down,” corrected Theo, giving the other boy a questioning look. “We didn’t even know it _was_ Sabrina until we went back to the park. We only saw the aftermath,” he explained, trying to soothe his boyfriend. “Harvey and I were packing away the pig quartet when it suddenly began gusting hard. We waited out the windstorm under Harvey’s truck, but it started raining Hellfire on the park. I suspected it was Sabrina, given Harvey was missing. Once the blaze had settled, we went back into the park to see.”

“It was crazy, guys,” said Harvey, taking over for Robin. “Sabrina was there with the Dark Lord…but you already knew that?” he guessed, seeing the lack of surprise on their faces.

“Sabrina’s… _father_ was the one who brought me back,” whispered Roz, doing everything in her power not to think about the vision she had seen.

“He came to Baxter High before that, to pick her up,” added Theo, “and then left with her when she found out you had gone to the carnival on your own.”

Harvey was staggered by the steady lack of reaction his friends were showing. “Let me get this straight,” he said, incredulous. “The devil, who tried to kill, and or enslave, us and the world, not that long ago, is now working with us?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” argued Theo. “He didn’t appear overly keen to help _us_ , more like…” He tried to think of the best description from what he had seen. “More like…He was respecting rank, since Sabrina’s the Queen of Hell.”

“They made a deal,” said Roz, unsure how to go about wording the other things that had come up during Sabrina’s brief sojourn at Harvey’s garage. She was admittedly worried how her boyfriend would react to the rest of her news. Anything that had to do with Sabrina or magic seemed to get Harvey running hot quickly. “Sabrina only touched upon the basics, but she and the devil formed a pact, one with a clause that included our safety.”

“That still doesn’t explain why He’s roaming around Greendale.”

“Sabrina didn’t exactly stick around long enough to discuss the subject at length,” stated Theo, shooting Harvey a look. “Her bone-headed friend was in trouble at the carnival, and she ran out of here thinking you may be dead.”

“That’s not the only thing,” said Roz, hesitantly, ignoring Theo’s gestures to leave it alone. “The Dark Lord also referred to Sabrina as His…wife.” The second the word past her lips, Roz had to wonder whether or not it had been worth bringing up the point without first clarifying it with Sabrina.

“What?” yelled Harvey, appalled at the thought.

Theo shook his head at Roz, his gaze clearly disappointed in her. “She said she’d talk to us later,” said Theo, trying to placate the fuming Harvey.

“Wife?” repeated Harvey, disbelieving. “He’s her _father_! They’re related! That’s…that’s…that’s _disgusting_! That’s,” he shivered at the thought. “That’s illegal and wrong in so many ways. It can’t be consensual! Sabrina would never—”

“Harvey, we really don’t know much about it,” interrupted Theo, coming to her absent friend’s defence. “Sabrina was in and out of here so fast—”

“Guys,” said Robin, surprised and confused by their strong reactions. “Not to sound like a pagan, but you’re coming to very human conclusions. Sabrina’s not a mortal. She’s a witch—and, by all accounts, if she is Satan’s daughter, then she’s a celestial as well. I can’t speak for celestials, but as far as witch families go, maintaining a pure bloodline is pretty common practice.”

“That is fundamentally wrong on so many levels,” challenged Harvey, disturbed by the thought.

“Witches aren’t like mortals, Harvey,” countered Robin, trying to help them better understand their friend. “You can’t hold them to the same standards. In fact, throughout history—I’m talking centuries upon centuries, mortals emulated witch-kind. Think of the pharaohs of Egypt, who married siblings, children, and parents interchangeably—all for the sake of perpetuating royal blood. The practice was learned from their high priests and priestesses, who were witches.”

“He’s still her father, Robin! She’s sixteen years old!”

“Age is relative for a witch,” continued Robin, calmly. “They live for centuries.” He came further into the space, sitting on the couch and getting comfortable. He had a feeling that he was about to embark on a long, fruitless conversation about witches. He found himself praying to Satan he would have the patience to repeat himself enough times for the message to become clear. Theo’s friends were good people, just misguided and mortal.

* * *

The Dark Lord’s pact with Sabrina to end Faustus, had only been one driving factor that led the disgraced High Priest to seek an Unholy alliance with the pagans. In truth, he required them for far more than he had previously let on, namely help seeking favour with one of their Gods, Hephaestus. Faustus hadn’t spent fifteen years in a time bubble without learning a few humbling and irrefutable facts involved in invoking the Eldritch Terrors, primarily that the Time Egg, by itself, was not enough for the plans he had in store for the Church of Night. He required a powerful medium to draw, contain, and focus the energy of the Egg in order to wield it. Time Magic was complex and unpredictable at the best of times, applying it to multiple people at once was asking for an Unholy miracle. That’s where the God of Forges came in to play.

He sat before Pan and Nagaina now, invoking their help once again.

“Explain to me again why you would have us entreat the great smith, Hephaestus when we have this Time Egg of yours with which to navigate to the past and are in the midst of putting our remaining magic and energy into reviving the Green Man?”

“I have been studying the Time Egg for fifteen years, Great Pan. Time Magic is…finicky. Without a means to regulate the flow of magic from the Egg, it would be near impossible to place us back to a specific time. It would be like trying to perform surgery with a chainsaw. Time Magic is a rare and sacred art, but I believe I have the ingredients required to create an object that could allow such a feat.”

“Go on, warlock,” allowed Pan, intrigued by the satanic betrayer.

“I have objects of significance to forge a harvesting scythe, like that of the Time Keeper, Chronos. By imbuing the energy of the Time Egg into the scythe, we can cut through time. For such transformative magic, I would require the help of one of your Gods, the craftsman Hephaestus, blacksmith of Olympus.”

“What have you to offer the God of Fire, one of the ruling twelve of Olympus, for such a request?” asked Pan. “The Hellenes are not known to grant favours or treat favourably with those not born of a God. They are fickle, vain, and tempestuous. You are asking for a Godly tool, to be forged by a God, in order to command the power of a God.”

“Among my collections of the profane, I have in my possession, Carnwennan, the dagger used to slice the Very Black Witch in half. It is an enchanted blade that casts its users in shadow to hide them,” offered the Former High Priest. “I would offer this metalwork, a tool used against my own kind, in exchange for his mastery.”

“It is a good start,” agreed Pan. “We will add our own gifts of quail, honey, wine, and vervain to strengthen your offering.”

* * *

Nick headed straight for the Directrix’s office once Dorian had returned to the bar, his mind still wheeling over what Sabrina had told him. He didn’t both knocking, choosing instead to walk into the centre of a Spellman family gathering, minus the youngest. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the austere welcome he’d received.

“Mr. Scratch,” said Zelda, her expression a thinly veiled attempt at civility. “Can I help you with something?”

“I wanted to speak with you about Sabrina—”

“You have some nerve,” interrupted Ambrose, standing up from his seat. “After the way you treated her in the Library, making a spectacle of the two of you, and the cruel words you had for her,” he continued, anger palpable. “It is a wonder you would volunteer to bring yourself before her family.”

“Settle down, Nephew,” ordered Zelda, waiting for the young warlock to explain himself. “What about, Sabrina?”

Nick paused for a moment, taking in the open hostility in the room, and wondered for the first time, since deciding to confront her aunt, whether or not he should have put more thought to his plan. Even Sabrina’s affable Aunt Hilda looked capable of murder at the moment. “Were you aware of the nature of Sabrina’s bargain with the Dark Lord?” he asked, pressing forward and damning the consequences.

“Are you kidding me—”

“Ambrose!” silenced Zelda. She, too, stood from her seat at the head of the Dean’s table and frowned at the dark-haired teen. “What is it you are asking us, Nicholas? Speak plainly,” she demanded, eyes thinning as her glare turned incendiary.

“Did you know that Sabrina sold herself to the Dark Lord?” he demanded, matching her stare.

Silence descended on the group.

“I don’t believe it is your right anymore to demand explanations of my niece,” said Zelda, eventually. “From what I have heard from faculty and students who bore witness to your…heated conversation in the Library, any relationship you had with my niece is over. Further, what she and the Dark Lord agreed upon during their…bargaining, is between the two of them. You saw the devil’s pacts as clear as I did,” she continued, “and whether or not any of us agree with it, it is done.”

“You’re talking about eternal damnation to Hell,” he spat, unable to believe what he was hearing from the Spellman matriarch. “She’s half-mortal, Zelda. Do you really think they’re going to accept her as their Queen, even if she collects all pieces of the Unholy Regalia? Do you really think she’d be happy? You’re talking about the same _sixteen-year-old_ girl who ran out on her own Dark Baptism. The same girl who fought the Dark Lord tooth and nail for her right to live as she saw fit. Can you honestly tell me that you agree with any part of this situation? Can you honestly tell me, that you agree with her decision to give herself over to Hell and the Dark Lord—”

“It doesn’t matter what _they_ think, Mr. Scratch,” said Lilith, suddenly appearing within the office in a whirlwind of fire. “A vow was made, and a bargain struck. Getting angry at Sabrina’s family will not change that simple fact. Additionally, I’d take care invoking the Dark Lord’s name so liberally,” she added, sizing him up with a sinister smile. “I do believe He is rather cross with the manner you treated His would-be bride. He’s been itching for a good smiting.”

“No one invited you here, whore,” he said.

“Actually,” corrected Ambrose. “We did.”

“You can see yourself out, Nicholas,” dismissed Zelda.


	19. A Royal Engagement

Sabrina wandered aimlessly for the first hour after locating all pieces of silver. It was done. She had beaten Caliban—who had been strangely absent throughout the whole ordeal. She found herself approaching the Spellman Mortuary, unable to bring herself back to Hell for the time being. She wasn’t sure how quickly she would be expected to marry the Dark Lord, and what exactly that future entailed. Right now, she wanted her aunties.

The house was empty. There was no sign of Hilda, Zelda, or Ambrose anywhere. She drifted to the kitchen, where it looked as though her aunt had been in the process of baking up another several batches of pastries, the content undoubtedly the fruit of sin that seemed to follow Sabrina everywhere. She grabbed a bowl of the filling and a large wooden spoon, seating herself at the kitchen table to indulge in the taste that haunted her dreams.

A small cackle of fire erupted at the centre of the kitchen, bringing with the scent of scorched earth, and delivering Lucifer Morningstar to the Spellman kitchen. 

Sabrina couldn’t help the raised brow at His appearance. “That had to be the tamest entrance I’ve ever seen you make,” she commented dryly, taking in the white button-down shirt, and black slacks. He was curiously underdressed, considering how He prided Himself on capturing her attention with His image. “Here I thought you only knew how to show off. The Dark Lord has unseen depths.”

“Did you succeed?” He asked, sitting to her right, unconcerned by her remarks. “Were you able to retrieve Judas Iscariot’s thirty pieces of silver?”

She pulled out the pouch and set it on the table, the tiny clinking in the bag answering His question for her.

“You’ve done well, daughter,” He complimented.

She spooned another helping of the filling into her mouth and shrugged. “What happens now?”

“Now, we return to Pandemonium and celebrate your victory over Prince Caliban,” He replied. “We will have the coronation, and afterward I shall take you as my wife before the horde. Then the legacy of the Morningstar will reign until eternity.”

She frowned at the future He casually painted. He made everything sound so simple, but there were things still outstanding between them. Things they had bargained for that she assumed would be addressed before she tied herself to the Dark Lord irrevocably. “What about my Aunties? Ambrose? My human friends? What about the pagans?”

“All in good time, Sabrina,” He said, frowning as she continued to shovel the red paste into her mouth.

“Would you like some?” she asked, offering the bowl.

“I prefer apple, daughter,” He said, dismissing her.

She regarded Him pensively. He had gone to great lengths to prove to her that her dreams of Him, were every bit as real as His presence before her now. Then again, He was the Original Sin and a liar. She was certain there were more shades to Him she would come to experience.

“We shouldn’t keep the hordes waiting,” He said, taking the hand she had bracing the bowl of Aunt Hilda’s cherry filling. She looked at the contracted hand surprised.

“What about our bargains?” she asked, looking up and trying to read what was going on behind His green eyes

“They both stand, daughter,” He said easily.

“Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep the hordes waiting,” she agreed, allowing Him to whisk her into His arms and drag her to Hell.

* * *

All of Hell appeared to have emptied into the throne room eagerly awaiting the conclusion to the quest for the Unholy Regalia.

The Plague Kings were front and centre, their scowls at seeing Sabrina with the purse of coins, the most welcoming sight of all to the young witch. It was finally over. Curiously missing, was the Mother of Monsters and Sabrina’s challenger.

“My Fiends and Friends,” announced the Dark Lord, to the raucous crowd surrounding them. “Today, my daughter claims victory to the seat of power in Hell!”

Sabrina smiled pleased when she heard her name chanted by the denizens before her.

The Dark Lord waited for the crowd to quiet down before speaking again. “It is a most auspicious occasion and should be marked by more than one celebration tonight.” The crowd cheered again at the announcement. “Tonight, we will have a coronation,” He said, taking and lifting Sabrina’s hand in His own before the crowd, “and afterward, a wedding.”

The crowd came unglued at the news, their various growls, moans, roars, and shrieks of assent no longer that ghastly chorus it would have been only a week before. By winning the challenge, Sabrina’s people had accepted her, and they wanted to celebrate her victory and ascension alongside her.

After soaking in the revelry all around her, Sabrina allowed herself to be escorted to her chambers by the Dark Lord. He opened and held the door open to her chambers and caught her hand before she passed Him entirely. “My Queen,” He said, curling her hand in His own, “I look forward to your coronation,” He continued, taking a step closer. He let go of the door, to wrap His free arm around her back, “and your passion on our wedding night.” He leaned down to press His lips to hers, but she pulled back.

“Not until we say, ‘I do.’”

“Of course,” He said, pulling back.

When she was certain she was alone, she went to take a seat on the bed, her breath coming in quick, successive bursts that had her struggling to stay conscious. She wasn’t ready for marriage just yet, and definitely not prepared for a passionate wedding night—He had promised her, she thought rubbing the mark by her ear.

‘ _Lucifer_?’ she called out.

She was surprised when He didn’t return to her door or answer. The whole situation had her on edge, and it didn’t help that her father was acting out of sorts. There was only one thing for it. Spying the items she needed around the chamber, Sabrina made quick work of setting up a ring of candles and lighting them all. She settled herself inside the circle and pictured Lilith in her mind. Her spirit left her body shortly after.

* * *

Sabrina was surprised to find herself in her Aunt Zelda’s office at the Academy, even more so to find herself the subject of four probative stares.

“Sabrina?” said her Aunt Hilda, reaching out for her niece, only to have her hand pass through.

“I’m astral projecting,” she said apologetically. “From Hell.”

“You finished the quest,” guessed Lilith, taking in her appearance.

“I did,” she replied, watching the myriad of emotions washing across her aunts and cousin’s faces.

“Why not come share the news in person?” asked Zelda, trying to read her niece’s expression. She looked scared and confused. It was not a fitting look for her niece, whom she had raised to be strong and independent—not that the strength and independence she so admired hadn’t bit her in the ass more times than she cared.

“That’s just it,” said Sabrina, looking to Lilith. “I went home, after I won the pieces of silver. I was hoping to see you all there.”

Zelda smiled warmly at the admission, exchanging pleased looks with her sister and nephew.

“I was waiting for you guys in the kitchen,” she continued, her hands fidgeting at her sides, “and the Dark Lord appeared. I didn’t expect Him,” she added quickly, hoping to avoid a confrontation with Zelda. “He’s been acting as my regent. He’s not supposed to leave while the quest is going on, to avoid accusations of cheating.”

“Which still begs the question why you’re astral projecting to us from Hell,” prodded Ambrose.

“He was acting…strange,” she said, looking down at the ground. “He congratulated me on my victory and began talking about having a joint coronation and wedding right away—”

“What?” exclaimed Ambrose.

“Over my dead body will you be getting married right now,” said Zelda, crossly.

“What was so strange about Him?” asked Lilith, taking in the teen’s embarrassment.

Sabrina was an impressive shade of red, given only her spirit was present before them. “I had been snacking on Auntie Hilda’s pie filling,” she admitted, keeping her gaze firmly on her feet. “I offered Him some,” she said, voice breaking slightly. “He refused.”

Lilith looked at the girl incredulously. “I don’t know that turning down pie filling is an example of odd behaviour,” she said eventually.

“It wasn’t that He turned it down,” she said quietly.

“What then, cousin?” prompted Ambrose, when it looked as though Sabrina wasn’t going to be able to continue the train of thought.

The young witch looked at Madam Satan with burning cheeks. “It was… _cherry_ ,” she managed to say, her voice only minutely strangled when she managed to name the fruit.

“What about the cherry filling, Sabrina?” asked the Mother of Monsters with a wicked grin, suddenly understanding the girl’s struggle, and relishing in her discomfort.

“He said He preferred apple.”

“Did He now,” said Lilith speculatively.

The rest of the Spellman clan were baffled by the private conversation that seemed to be taking place between Sabrina and Lilith.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Ambrose asked, “what is so important about cherries?”

“Sabrina?” pressed Madam Lilith, pushing the teen to answer and basking in the torment that contorted her face.

She took a deep breath, trying to work up the will to say it. “It’s the original fruit of sin,” she managed, not quite able to look at her cousin when she answered. “It’s His favourite…or, at least…He indulges in them a decent amount.” She pictured a wicked forked tongue rolling cherries along her slit and squirmed.

“That does answer a few questions I had about all the cherries _popping_ up over town suddenly,” admitted Lilith, regarding the girl impressed. To think she had managed to enflame the Dark Lord’s passion into a physical manifestation in the small town, was remarkable. In truth, the Mother of Monsters was surprised the girl had remained vestal up until this point, given the amount of attention she had been receiving from the Dark Lord. Thinking back to the Royal Suites, she couldn’t help but come to the conclusion it wouldn’t be much longer that the fruit of sin would be the only thing popping in Greendale.

“I’m still not entirely sure what His reticence from eating pie filling has to do with the other problems you’re facing in Hell right now,” said Zelda, trying not to think about how her niece may have come into the knowledge of the Dark Lord’s preferred fruit.

“He touched me,” Sabrina said absently, looking at her hand.

“I beg your pardon?” spat Zelda, standing abruptly from her seat.

Sabrina looked at her aunt startled. She thought about what she has just said, and quickly corrected. “No, He touched my hand,” she explained. Biting her lip, she pushed the hair back from her left ear, showing a small devil’s seal. “He can’t…touch me without my permission.”

“When did this little development take place?” snapped Zelda.

“Today, auntie, I promise. I was waiting for you at home,” Sabrina reminded her. “Either way, He took my hand, and He’s been…tactile ever since appearing at the house. I came here looking for Lilith, hoping she might be able to help me. Everything about what’s happened since I retrieved the last piece of the Unholy Regalia has been odd.”

“I’ll do what I can,” agreed Madam Satan, disappearing in a flash of fire.

“Be careful cousin,” begged Ambrose.

“I forbid you from getting married today, young lady,” said her Aunt Zelda. “If and when that day comes, it’ll be with your family surrounding you.”

“Yes auntie,” she said with a small smile, before disappearing in flash.

Hilda waited until she was certain her niece had disappeared before looking at her sister expectantly. “Are you honestly telling me that we’re going to sit by and allow our niece to be cajoled down the aisle in Hell with no one but Madam Satan as her back-up?”

“Don’t be stupid, Hilda,” she said, straightening her outfit. “Obviously we’re going to Hell after her.”


	20. The Coronation of Sabrina Morningstar

When Sabrina came too, Lilith was sitting on the bed above her, waiting for her to open her eyes.

“Welcome back, Sabrina,” the Mother of Monsters greeted, offering her a hand up off the floor. “While you were out, a dress was dropped off for your coronation and wedding tonight,” she said, looking at the black lace with distaste.

“What’s with the face?” asked Sabrina, curious about her reaction.

“I fear you may be right about the Dark Lord,” admitted Lilith, holding up the long, lace dress.

“The apple comment and complete disregard for His own pact didn’t convince you, but black lace does?” asked Sabrina, nonplussed. The dress looked on par for what she expected of a wedding gown to the devil. It was revealing, tight, and certainly eye-catching.

“Lucifer Morningstar has a flamboyant flavour He puts to everything. Black lace is acceptable for day to day affairs, if a tad trite in Hell, but a coronation? A wedding? No. The Dark Lord is all gold and red satin,” she explained, eyeing the outfit in disbelief.

She thought about the gold gown she had danced the Mephisto Waltz to with Lucifer and couldn’t help but concede Lilith’s point.

“Let’s get you into this monstrosity, and see what we’re up against. Best play along for now until we know what sort of Hellish games we’re dealing with.”

* * *

Outside of a few strategically placed pieces of embroidery, the dress was borderline obscene after Lilith had managed to help Sabrina squeeze into it. The young witch was thankful her aunts and cousin would be nowhere near Pandemonium to see how the imposter had decided to dress and parade her before the Infernal Court. She’d always been somewhat confident in her looks, but the amount of skin showing was tasteless by any standard, but she held her head high as she followed Lilith to the throne room, where the hordes had remained gathered.

This time, she was able to see Caliban among the parties present. He was sat in an iron cage near the front of the hall, his arms shackled above his head, and a gag in his mouth to prevent him from speaking. His eyes burned like Hellfire as he looked upon her and the occupants of the room.

“Do you like what I’ve done?” asked Lucifer, coming to stand next to her. Sabrina looked back at the prisoner and realized she had been mistaken in her first glance of the Pretender Prince. He wasn’t glaring at her, but at the Dark Lord by her side.

“You had Caliban imprisoned,” she observed, watching with a frown on her face as the horde circled and jeered at him through the cage.

“Of course,” replied the Dark Lord, wrapping an arm around her waist. “He will watch you ascend to the throne, tie yourself to me, and face the executioner knowing how remarkably he has failed. Does it not please you?”

Sabrina paused a moment to think, using the opportunity to take in the Dark Lord’s ordinary appearance. He was garbed in a loose black shirt, the collar open to mid-chest, and a pair of fitted black trousers. It was far too drab for the large personality that wore it.

“I was under the impression I had all say in this Kingdom until you and I were wed?” she said eventually, looking Him in the eye. “You went ahead and imparted judgement and sentencing on one of my subjects, and without my authority.”

“Sabrina, I am your regent—”

“And act on my behalf when I am not in Hell,” she interrupted Him.

“You are displeased?”

She walked away from Him without answering, approaching the cell to look upon the clay man she had defeated without much opposition on the final artifact. His eyes raked her body in a manner that suggested open appreciation for the skin on display. There was surprisingly little to no hostility in his gaze as he took her in, only naked hunger for her body.

She was disrupted by the Plague Kings before she could make any comment to her former competitor.

Beelzebub, Purson, and Asmodeus bowed deeply before her. Their actions calling the horde to silence as they observed Sabrina’s staunchest detractors fall into line. “The challenge has been won,” acknowledged Beelzebub, straightening from his bow. “The final item of the Unholy Regalia belongs to you, Sabrina Morningstar, as does the Throne of Hell.”

Sabrina inclined her head in acceptance of his words.

“In honour of your victory, the hordes have gathered here before us now to bear witness and recognize your irrefutable claim over Pandemonium. If her majesty permits,” continued Beelzebub, “we will have the coronation commence.”

Sabrina looked to Lilith, who nodded once imperceptibly, before turning to give the Lord of Flies her assent.

She allowed Lucifer to take her hand and guide her up the dais to the seat of power, overlooking her subjects in the Throne Room. He took a stand at her right, leaving her left open for Lilith to join. The Plague Kings bore Sabrina’s crown to her seat, where Lucifer accepted the gold-gilded crown of bones to place on her head.

“We recognize Sabrina Morningstar,” said the Plague Kings as one. “She is the Proud Lady of Pandemonium, the Maiden of Shadows, and Queen of Hell. All Hail Sabrina!”

“All Hail Sabrina!” chanted the horde.

“All Hail Sabrina,” repeated the Dark Lord quietly at her side.

Before Sabrina could stand to address her followers, Beelzebub once again took his turn to speak to the masses congregated in the hall. “Citizens of Hell,” he announced boldly. “Rejoice now, for the spectacle is not yet over.”

The crowd roared.

“Tonight, you will behold the most Unholy Union of the House of Morningstar,” he continued once the horde had settled. “Followed by the public execution of Prince Caliban.”

Once again, the people cheered.

On the opposite side of the platform, Sabrina felt her insides turn to ice, an impressive feat considering she was in Hell.

“We three Kings stand as officiants on this most disreputable occasion,” continued Purson.

“Lady and Lord of Shadows,” added Asmodeus, “will you come stand before the horde so that they may share in this most Disreputable Service?”

Once again, Sabrina was not given the opportunity to accept or refuse. Her imposter father took her hand in His, and gently pulled her toward the golden rail that overlooked Pandemonium. “We would not disappoint the denizens of Hell by withholding the dishonour of witnessing our Unholy Union,” replied the false devil, waving at the eager audience.

The Plague Kings took up residence before the pair. One held a set of rings, one held a cloth to bind their hands, and the other held a thick black tome with gold pages. “We three kings of plague, recognize Sabrina Morningstar and the Dark Lord before us today—”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Lilith. “Plague Kings,” she continued, coming to stand at Sabrina’s side. “I believe you’ve forgotten three-quarters of the ceremony. This… _shotgun_ wedding does not befit the station of the two you are so desperate to wed.”

“Silence, whore!” called Asmodeus.

“Lilith is right,” agreed Sabrina, pulling her hand from the imposter wearing Satan’s face. “This feels very rushed.”

“The hordes came here to witness a wedding—”

“The hordes came to celebrate my victory,” snapped Sabrina, drawing herself to her full height and glaring at the three.

“It is as you say,” agreed Beelzebub, an ugly, contorted attempt at a smile adorning his face, “but did you not promise yourself to the Dark Lord upon completion of the quest?”

Sabrina thought about the mark on her tongue and scowled at the Lord of Flies. “I made a pact with the Devil,” she all but hissed.

“Then you must satisfy your oath,” he sneered at her. “You shall have your wedding to the Dark Lord, and Hell will be back as it should be.”

“I am Queen here, Beelzebub,” she retorted hotly. “I will not be forced down the aisle by your or your lackeys.”

“Peace, daughter,” said fake Lucifer, attempting to soothe her, only succeeding in irritating her further. “It was always going to come to this. Why postpone what is inevitable?” He took her hand forcefully, trying to pull her to Him.

“Get your filthy hands off of my niece!” thundered Zelda, appearing in the throne room along with Hilda, Ambrose, and Prudence. Their appearance unnoticed by the horde until Zelda’s command. The trio followed the Spellman matriarch up the dais, where she smacked the hand that held her niece. “Shame on you!”

“Aunties! Ambrose! Prudence?” said the shocked Queen.

“No one in this family gives my niece away or supports this Union,” she yelled at the false Dark Lord and His subservient Plague Kings.

“Sabrina is my daughter,” challenged the pretender would-be King of Hell. “She is mine to give to whom I please, and it pleases me to have her as my own.” He grabbed Sabrina’s face, to force His kiss on her, but Sabrina stepped back, refusing His touch. Her aunts, and even Lilith, moved to stand between the two as a shield. Ambrose and Prudence coming to her side in support.

“I will not marry you,” said Sabrina fiercely.

“You would betray me, daughter?”

“I have betrayed no one,” she countered, as the horde grew listless below, eating up the disorder playing out before them. It may not be a wedding, but the passion play unfolding before them fed the frenzy stirring the spectators. “You are not Lucifer Morningstar.”

The accusation stopped whatever he had to say next. He studied her curiously, before stepping back and clapping his hands slowly, leaning back against the guard rail. “What gave it away?” he asked, crossing his arms and smiling far too smugly for someone who had just been caught.

“Cherries,” she said quietly, forcing a laugh from the one who wore the Dark Lord’s face.

“So early on,” he said jovially. “It is a wonder you allowed this go as far as it did.”

“I wasn’t entirely convinced,” she admitted. “There were a lot of small things that didn’t add up, like the smell of scorched earth when you appeared in the kitchen, your clothes,” she added, gesturing toward the plain garments adorning him. “It was all far too tame, but not altogether damning. What really struck me, was when you began placing yourself at my right all day.”

“So many mistakes,” he said impressed by her perception.

“None as clinching as your comment earlier about ‘both’ of my bargains,” she confessed. “I entered into a third today, which you would have known if you were really Lucifer Morningstar. You’ve been touching me ever since you appeared in my kitchen and having endured the pain of going against a contract, and feeling none of it…there’s no way you could be Him.”

“You really are Daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?” he said disparagingly.

“No, Caliban,” she countered, certain of the imposter she was addressing. “Your presence is lacking. You make a pretty poor imitation of the Dark Lord.”

“Caliban?” he feigned surprise, holding the ruse.

“The Plague Kings have been far too accommodating this evening,” she said, shooting a glare at the three. “They disavowed the House of Morningstar long before Lucifer assumed His angelic form.” She peered through her Aunties and over the imposter’s shoulder to glance at Caliban’s likeness, chained in his iron prison, and smirked. “Not to mention, your actor, who is chained in iron—of all things, has been glaring at you with an intensity likened to Hellfire since entering the throne room.”

“Are you so certain?” challenged the fake Dark Lord.

“Yes,” she answered, stepping around her aunties and Lilith’s protective wall, pushing past the Plague Kings to walk into the crowd. She was given a wide berth as she approached the cell, her prisoner tracking her progress with his eyes. She unbolted the door by hand, before unfastening the chains with a flick of her wrist. “You would never let yourself be locked up,” she said, as the image of Caliban, tore the gag from his mouth and began massaging his wrists. “You would never let yourself be bested by three demons and a Prince of Clay. You knew this was going to happen,” she accused, as he moved to exit the cage. ‘ _Lucifer_?’

He looked up at her then, and while His face may have been Caliban’s, His expression was entirely King of Hell.

“Luci, you got some ‘splainin to do,” she whispered, before framing His face with her hands, gently lifting up to her toes to kiss Him softly on the mouth, praying to Satan all the while that she had guessed right and wasn’t about to lose everything to a Judas kiss.


	21. Lies and Executions

The kiss and glamour were over within a second of Sabrina touching her lips to His. In Caliban’s place, stood Lucifer Morningstar, an arrogantly satisfied smile on His face as He looked up to the dais at the so-called Prince of Hell and Plague Kings.

The horde, while overwhelmingly confused, were loving every second of the drama taking place before them.

Lucifer held out His hand to her, an invitation of her touch. Biting her lip, she took the proffered hand and allowed Him to guide her back up the dais to her family, her frenemy, Lilith, and her most devout political adversaries.

“That was a hard-won coronation, daughter,” complimented the Dark Lord. “You bring honour to our house,” He added proudly, allowing her to walk back into the safety net of her aunts and cousin, who immediately sought to shield her from Him.

“For Heaven’s sake!” cursed Zelda, fussing over her niece before turning an irate glare at the Dark Lord. “What is the meaning of all this?”

Sabrina turned her attention back to the Dark Lord and added, “I think you owe everyone here an explanation.”

He offered her a mocking bow and flourish. “As it pleases my Lady. After you left to retrieve the pieces of Judas Iscariot’s silver, I was immediately set upon by the Plague Kings, who accused me of colluding with you to ensure your victory,” He said, bored. “They were not satisfied with my word—”

“Because you’re the Father of Lies?” interjected Sabrina sarcastically.

“Exactly right, daughter.” Lucifer approached the boy made of dust and backhanded him across the face. The force of His attack driving Caliban from the rail and into the cowering Plague Kings. “They wished to deem the match forfeit when you came back victorious—because there was no doubt you would be.”

It dawned on Sabrina then. “You’re the one who came up with this ruse,” she accused. “There’s no way those two-bit Lesser Kings and Caliban could have overpowered you into that cell. Not if you didn’t agree.”

“Of course,” He agreed, crossing His arms and enjoying the spark of rage He could see festering in His daughter’s eyes. Her passion thrilled Him, and He almost regretted the pact He made with her before she left for the final challenge. Almost, she was going to be near explosive with desire when they finally came together. He licked His lips at the thought. “The glamour was mine, also. Sabrina, I _did_ tell you where to locate Judas Iscariot, which _was_ against the rules. However, the Plague Kings knew, that if I hadn’t imparted that information to you, the silver would have been lost to you both forever.”

“You’re…you’re diabolical,” she said, impressed with Him despite herself, realizing just how much He well and truly had orchestrated the challenge. “You were always going to tell me where to find Judas, just like you knew the Plague Kings would threaten to forfeit the match.”

“Go on,” He said, enjoying the show as her mind connected all the dots in His machinations.

“If you were the one person who knew where Judas Iscariot was, then you and the Plague Kings were aware you would have to tell me how to locate him, which means Caliban’s only chance at retrieving the silver, would be through me. You put that pact in place on purpose…because, you were already going to suggest he pretend to be you, to steal a kiss from me. You were counting on the fact I would see through the glamour. You were counting on the pact,” she said, unconsciously reaching up to rub the mark next to her ear.

“I love to cheat, almost as much as I enjoy a good lie,” He said, His mood exponentially improved from His brief sojourn in the cage. Her mind was as devious as He’d hoped it would be. “As you said, the Plague Kings propositioned me with a case, that it was only fair Caliban had the opportunity to win the silver from you, after you had retrieved it. Having them crown you themselves was a bonus I had not anticipated.” He regarded her proudly. “You were the one who gave me the idea, daughter,” He admitted, mischievous grin in place. “You once told me that only a Morningstar could trick a Morningstar.”

“That was an awful lot to hedge—”

“I did nothing of the sort,” He argued. “There was never a question of who would win Sabrina. It was always going to be you.”

Her heart fluttered softly at His conviction, leaving her breathless to argue.

Zelda, who had been watching the back-and-fort with no small amount of trepidation, felt herself begin to relax now that it appeared as though Sabrina wasn’t about to be forced down the aisle. “I take it,” she spoke up, breaking whatever hold the Dark Lord had over her niece, “that this means you are satisfied with the results from today, and you will not be forcing my niece into marriage.”

“Not tonight, High Priestess,” He allowed, taking in the picture of Sabrina’s aunt fiercely guarding her young from perceived predators. She held her stance between Him and His daughter firm, along with her sister, and…His former handmaiden—that was an interesting development.

“Praise Satan,” she said relieved. “Thank you, Dark Lord.”

“Not tonight, is not _never_ , Zelda,” He warned her, catching Sabrina’s eye. “It will be soon. I am not known for my patience. I will allow your niece to have her goodbyes on Earth before she is to settle in Hell permanently.”

Zelda’s throat worked tightly at His words. “Yes, Dark Lord,” she managed to say.

“In the meantime, you might as well stay for the festivities,” He said, looking around. “It’s not like Hell will ever see a new Queen, and I do believe it will be a stone-cold day in the Pit of Despair, before there is another coronation and public execution in the same day.”

“Public execution?” repeated Zelda, confused.

The Dark Lord snapped His fingers, ignoring the question, and His guests were surprised to suddenly find themselves adorned in elaborate evening wear, all of it shades of gold, accentuated by bright jewel tones of red, blue, or green. Not to be outdone, the Dark Lord had fashioned himself a long and patterned gold tailcoat, complete with no shirt and tight black dress pants.

“In a bit,” He said, looking past the red-headed witch to His daughter. The black lace she had been wearing had hugged her body gloriously, but showed far more of her, than He was willing to share with the masses. Inspired by the look, He had her fitted in gold lace and chiffon, far more modest than its predecessor, but equally daring. “I believe I would like to have a dance with my daughter, first.”

* * *

“She looks beautiful out there,” commented Hilda, watching as her niece was led around the floor in an intricate waltz, by the Dark Lord. “She looks so grown up—a lot like Diana, really.”

“Hilda, she’s sixteen-years-old,” snapped Zelda, taking in the intimate way Satan caressed her niece’s back and held her hand as He spun and twirled her inside the small gathering of dancers that had dared to join them. “Let’s not go marrying her off just yet.”

“Oi,” exclaimed her sister, “I’m hardly marrying her off. I’m just saying that they make a striking pair, is all.”

There was no denying their beauty. Lucifer Morningstar was as tall as He was striking. Holding Sabrina, who was more than a foot shorter, in His arms only made Him look all the more imposing. Yet, while His height should have dwarfed her, Sabrina demanded attention in her own right. She was a stunning girl with her white hair, dark eyes, and pale complexion. Dressed as they were, they made a handsome couple on the dance floor.

Hilda looked over her shoulder at Madam Satan and frowned. “Are you alright, love?”

The Mother of Monsters was momentarily struck dumb by the question. She watched as her ex-lover and new charge navigated the small throng of people dancing around them and felt nothing. For well over a thousand years she had followed and dutifully saw to every whim and desire of the Dark Lord. Now, she thought, looking at the young girl in His arms, she was free of Him. Lilith was free of His anger, free of His manipulations, and free of His cruelty. “I am,” she said, surprised by the honesty in her words.

Prudence watched the pair speculatively.

“What has you frowning so ferociously at my cousin?” asked Ambrose, wrapping an arm around his paramour.

She shrugged off his touch, and answered, “I can’t believe I’m in Hell, watching a half-witch barely out of diapers, ascend to the seat of power in Hell, and seduce the Dark Lord?”

“Jealous?” he asked, teasing.

“Of course I am,” she answered, looking at her lover as though the answer should be obvious. “Any witch would kill to be in Sabrina’s position. She is Queen of Hell, Ambrose. She is to be the Dark Lord’s wife. What is there not to be envious of?”

“Forced marriage to her father?” he offered.

“Is it really?” countered Prudence, gesturing to the couple dancing with her chin. “Watch them closely, and tell me, does it truly seem to you as though she is unhappy in His arms? Though she rules this realm, not once has Sabrina refused Him anything.”

Ambrose has to concede the point, watching the two. Try as he might to ignore it, his cousin appeared…smitten.

* * *

Long after the horde had been dismissed, and all frivolity of the evening done away with, Sabrina sat on the throne of Pandemonium, her father standing to her left, and Lilith on her right. Her aunts, cousin, and Prudence all off to the side, as the Plague Kings and Caliban were removed from the iron prison Lucifer had been subjected to, and, in turn had housed them for the evening.

“Asmodeus, Purson, Beelzebub, and Caliban,” addressed Lucifer, scowling at the cowering vermin before Him. “You stand here before the Queen, accused of treason. What say you?”

“The challenge was just,” argued Beelzebub, speaking for the three kings and their champion. “Caliban gathered six-hundred and sixty-six signatures of the highest born of Hell to endorse his challenge. By infernal law, it had to be accepted.

“I am aware how Infernal Court is run,” shouted the Dark Lord, His anger rising the longer the four remained before Him.

“Then you will accept that there is no punishment to be met for challenging Sabrina’s—”

“She is your _Queen,_ Beelzebub. You will address her with the respect her position is owed!” snapped the devil.

“My apologies, Dark Lord,” offered the Lord of Flies. “Allow me to rephrase. Do you accept that there is no punishment to be met for challenging the dishonourable Queen Morningstar’s authority to rule?”

“I do,” allowed the Father of Sin. “I accept and support that the challenge was issued through the proper channels by securing the necessary signatures.”

“Then—”

“What I take exception with, Beelzebub,” He continued darkly, “were your attempts to murder her before her ascension. There are few things I loath more than Heaven and pagans. As it happens,” He said, thrilling in the fear masking the Lesser King’s face, “one of those is betrayal.”

“Dark Lord—”

Purson was interrupted by his own neck snapping as the Dark Lord twisted a wrist in annoyance.

“I wasn’t finished speaking yet,” said the Dark Lord, eyeing the remaining three darkly.

“Please, your maj—”

Asmodeus fell to the floor dead, his head a perfect one hundred eighty degrees.

“What did I say about interruptions,” asked the Dark Lord, His voice daring the two remaining figures to speak. He waited until He was certain no one would attempt to cut in again. “As I was saying, what I find unforgivable in your actions today, was your trying to secure a false marriage to my daughter. Caliban,” He said, identifying the clay man specifically. “You coveted and sought to take what was mine," He accused, his eyes glowing a murderous red. "For your sins, you will know only pain and suffering. I sentence you to eternity in the Ninth Circle of Hell. You'll be in good company," He added cruelly. "Who knows, you may even know some of the clay particles you'll be reunited with. Beelzebub,” He said, turning to the remaining Plague King. “I release you from your duties!”

“Thank—”

With a flick of the wrist, the last Plague King fell to the ground dead.


	22. Reality Bites

Sabrina woke up under luxuriously soft sheets. She decided then and there that she was never going to leave the comfort of her bed again. She must have been more tired than she realized for her bargain brand cotton to suddenly feel like silk on bare skin. The way the material settled into her curves like a lover’s caress felt like sin incarnate to her sleep-addled brain. She went to snuggle further into the feeling when she brushed up against something solid and warm beside her.

Opening her eyes, she looked up to see four dark posts and a gold canopy above her, meaning she definitely wasn’t in her own bed. She pushed her hand out first, connecting with soft, warm skin and groaned internally. There was only one person she knew prone to such excess. She turned her head hesitantly to the side and looked right into a pair of disarming green eyes.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, sleepily.

“Do you want to be?” asked the Dark Lord, reaching out to gather her close to His body, pressing her against His front, which her traitorous body molded to like hot wax.

“This seems too simple,” she said, burying her face into His neck, which felt and smelled far better than any neck had a right to. He was ridiculously warm, only adding an extra layer of comfort to her lethargic brain. “No moonlight clearings, no gardens, just a nice, warm bed.”

“I don’t shape your dreams, daughter,” He said, laughing softly when He felt her melt against Him, ensuring no gap existed between them.

“Sure you do,” she accused, enjoying the weight of His arm around her back, she placed her hands on His chest and faced Him, a knowing look on her face. “You always have a plan. I don’t know how you do it,” she admitted, “but how would I know what the Garden looked like, to recreate it in my dreams?”

“You’re a witch, daughter,” He said softly, cupping her cheek and stroking the pale skin beneath His hand. “You’re a part of me, as well. Any number of things could have taken you there.”

“I still say it was you,” she argued, placing a teasing kiss at the corner of His mouth.

“Do you still believe this to be a dream?” He asked, pulling her body more firmly on to His, so that she was draped across His chest, her legs on either side of Him.

“How else could you be touching me?” she asked, lowering her mouth to His, and kissing Him sweetly.

He traced a finger along His mark behind her ear, enjoying the small shiver the stole her body at His touch. “The mark is almost faded to nothing,” He said, leaning up to whisper in her ear. “Our agreement is two-thirds complete. I promised not to touch you, unless you asked, or kiss you, unless you begged me. Both parts were satisfied when you voluntarily kissed me before the Infernal Court.”

She looked at Him confused. “You offered me your hand to escort me right after? You asked for a dance?”

“You are my daughter and Queen, Sabrina. I owe it to you and your station to be courteous.” He turned His head and bit her earlobe, enjoying her gasp before adding, “at least until we’re alone. I do believe you prefer my being far less noble when I have you in my arms and away from prying eyes.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous.”

“Is it?” He countered, allowing His hands to travel down her sides and cup her bottom. He gave her a squeeze, causing her to squirm just above where He truly wanted her. “It seems to me you enjoy having my improprietous hands, mouth, and tongue at your disposal when we’re alone.” He delighted in the flush that blazed across her cheeks and neck, His lips travelling down her pulse to taste the heated skin at the juncture of her throat. His tongue swiped across another of His marks, causing her to jump.

“It’s a dream,” she said, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that reminded her of waking up with a cherry stem in her mouth.

“Are your dreams typically so vivid?” He asked innocently, a hand skirting over her thigh to begin playing with her folds. He captured her answering moan with His lips. She was so damned responsive it was going to kill Him. He slid her further into His lap, allowing His thickening shaft to nestle firmly between the curves of her cheeks, her fidgeting only serving to make Him harder as His fingers continued to toy with her sex, making her burn all the hotter for Him. Feeling her muscles begin to tighten, He pressed a thumb into slick channel and watched her face as she came undone.

“Oh God,” she whispered, her nails biting into His shoulders as she felt herself spasming around His fingers.

“Can we leave my father out of this?” He asked petulantly, His fingers continuing their assault on her shuddering quim, building her back up for a second release.

He ground Himself against her ass, a thought coming to Him as she jumped, feeling His head rub against her sensitive bud. Inching His hand around one cheek, He teased her back to climax, leaning back to study her face as He pushed her over again, His middle finger slipping past the tight ring of muscles His prick had been flirting with, stopping at the first knuckle.

Her mouth opened and she came powerfully around Him, milking the fingers buried inside her so tightly He felt Himself twitch, eager to feel other parts of Himself squeezed by her silken heat. He waited until she collapsed against Him, before removing any part of Himself from her, His cock painfully hard against the curve of her ass. He felt her breathing taper off, a sure sign she was falling back asleep. Sighing, the Dark Lord stroked her back. Wanting her was going to drive Him mad.

Pleasantly sated, Sabrina felt herself beginning to drift off surrounded by the comfortable heat of the body beneath her, her eyelids far too heavy to keep open. She briefly wondered if she would wake up as comfortable in her own bed, no doubt drenched in sweat and other things. Only, now that she thought of it, she didn’t remember going home last night.

Sabrina’s eyes sprung open as she shot up from where she was sleeping, her hands braced against the Dark Lord’s shoulders, marred by little crescent moons from where she had dug her nails into His skin. He slowly folded His arms behind His head and offered her a winsome grin. “Have you decided you’re awake then?” He asked, gently pressing His hips into her, so she could feel the evidence of His arousal.

“This isn’t a dream,” she said, horrified, trying to cover herself so she wasn’t so openly on display for Him.

“No.”

“You’re not wearing anything,” she said, as if suddenly realizing she had been naked, doing grown-up naked things, with an equally naked man.

“On the contrary,” He said with a devilish grin. “I’m wearing my favourite thing.”

She was off Him and scrambling into her clothes the next second, desperate to put some distance between them. Forcing both shoes on, she ran out of the room without a second glance. She could still hear the devil laughing as she walked through the first portal she could find.

* * *

Sabrina wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Dorian, Nicholas, or herself when she stumbled out of one of Dorian’s Gray’s collections and into his bar.

Both warlocks took in the gold dress and crown, before noticing the shoes she had buckled to the wrong feet.

“Fun night?” asked Dorian, spying a few bite marks around her neck.

“Coronation,” she corrected, pointing to her crown.

“Does that mean the same thing as walk of shame to mortals?” sniped Dorian.

“I’ll be leaving, thank you,” she said, getting ready to teleport herself home. It was Nick’s next words that stopped her.

“I guess your dad must be pretty happy, huh?”

She blushed at his words but reminded herself that there was no way the words were meant as they sounded in her head. She thought of the Dark Lord in His gold sheets, wearing Sis mischievous smile and nothing else. She shook her head. Nope, not going there, she thought.

“In the end, He got what He wanted,” pressed Nick, while she had been distracted by her own internal dilemma. “You on the throne. His daughter, ruling Hell.”

“I did that for you, Nick,” she reminded Him. “Not for Him. I took the throne to get you out of Hell.”

“Still, a part of you must like it, right?” he challenged. “You wouldn’t have tried so hard for the unholy Regalia otherwise. Just look at you now. It’s okay Spellman, you don’t have to lie to me.”

“Lie to you?” she repeated, feeling her blood begin to boil. “I have never once _lied_ to you about anything, Nick. Unlike you, who lied to me constantly, when you weren’t cheating on me. If you and your little brolock don’t like me, that’s fine, but don’t you ever disrespect me again! You’d have no life, no power, and no Academy, if it wasn’t for me.”

“Sabrina—”

“Save it,” she hissed. “Believe it or not, I have more important things to deal with than your drama and narcissism right now,” she said, teleporting herself away from the infuriating warlock she used to call a boyfriend.

“This is why I opened a warlocks only club,” muttered Dorian, walking back to the bar.

* * *

Sabrina ported to the kitchen of the Spellman family home, just in time to startle Hilda, who had been carrying a hot pan of fresh muffins from the oven, all of which now decorated the floor.

“Sorry, Auntie,” she said, magicking the mess away with nothing but a thought. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s alright, darling,” offered her aunt. “No harm, no foul.”

“Late morning, cousin?” asked Ambrose, seated around the kitchen table, his arm around Prudence, as they took in her appearance. She knew she should have changed the second she ran into Nicholas and Dorian, but she was in such a rush to get away from them, and the Dark Lord before that, it became less and less a priority.

“You could say that,” she said tightly, hugging herself.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

She frowned at her cousin’s question. “I…I remember dancing,” she said, thinking back on the night, “and Lucifer dismissed the Infernal Court. I remember the Plague Kings and Caliban being brought before the throne, but it gets a little fuzzy after that,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Your father dismissed the Infernal Court, and then _you_ fell asleep sometime during or right after the Plague Kings’ executions,” offered Prudence, enjoying the half-witch’s squirming. “Must have been past your mortal bedtime.”

“That’s enough of that,” warned Hilda, wrapping an arm around her niece. “You had quite the morning, noon, and night, yesterday. It’s a wonder you hadn’t fallen asleep before then, what with saving your human friends, finishing the quest, the wedding-that-wasn’t. Sit yourself around the table, love,” she fussed. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

Sabrina knew better than to argue with her aunt when she was in one of her fussing moods, and slid into the seat across from her cousin and Prudence.

“Out of curiosity,” she began, looking to her cousin for answers. “Why did you guys leave me behind?”

“It wasn’t intentional, cousin,” placated Ambrose, studying Sabrina’s face, curious as to what her reaction might be. “Our aunties were set to take you home with us, but when the Dark Lord picked you up…”

“What?” she asked, praying a hole would swallow her up.

“You wouldn’t let daddy go,” finished Prudence, a smirk on her face. “You were clinging to Him like a limpet.”

“He assured us that as Queen of Hell, you had a number of rooms at your disposal,” added Ambrose, “and that you would be safe to stay the night, and find your way home this morning.”

“And you _believed_ him?” she asked hysterically.

“Should we not have?” her cousin asked, worried. “Did something happen?”

She blushed, and shook her head, determined not to speak of it. Ambrose and Prudence were the last people she wanted to confide in about her newfound…familiarity with the Dark Lord.

“Anything to do with why your dress is inside out and you’re wearing your shoes on the wrong feet?” asked Prudence innocently. “No?” she prodded when Sabrina refused to speak. “Then perhaps it has something to do with the bite marks on your neck?”

Sabrina stood from the table and excused herself from the kitchen without a word.


	23. Forging Ahead

“Was that really necessary?” asked Hilda, slamming a plate of Full English onto the table, shocking the two current occupants, who had never seen the benevolent blonde so angry. “You know what that girl went through yesterday.” She scowled at her nephew, and cuffed him on the back of the head, “I expected more from you, of all people.”

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” he said, suitably chastised.

“I expect you to tell Sabrina that, when…or, if, she ever decides to come out of her room,” she said, pointedly.

“Yes, Auntie.”

“That frightfully young, teenage witch upstairs is one of the few things I have left to remember my brother and sister-in-law,” she lectured the pair. “I helped raise her, she’s like a daughter to me, and right now, she is hurting, confused, and horrifically embarrassed. I will not have her hiding in her own home from people who would, and _should,_ never judge her. Not in this house! I should go up there and see if she’s alright—”

“Sister Hilda,” interrupted Prudence, removing herself from the table and Ambrose, to approach the elder witch, her posture open and unassuming. “Allow me to speak with her,” she asked softly. “I think Sabrina needs to have this conversation with someone who isn’t family.”

“Pardon my saying, dear, but what conversation do you think you can have with her, that she can’t discuss with family?”

“Sex,” said the younger witch, plainly.

Hilda opened and closed her mouth a few times before nodding. “Perhaps,” she agreed uncomfortably. Her own history in that department woefully lacking.

“I mean no disservice, Sister Hilda. Sabrina _is_ young,” continued Prudence. “You seem to forget that your niece is _half_ -witch and was schooled for most of her life among ignorant mortals. Their teachings often conflict with the Path of Night. Any witch in the Churches of Darkness would slit your niece’s throat to be in her position. Sabrina is the Queen of Hell and future Dark Lady. As such, she should be able to walk into any witching establishment with her head held high, not cowering in self-hate and embarrassment. Even if she had decided to ride the Beast last night, she has nothing to be ashamed of, and she should know that.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “but if I even catch the faintest whiff of tears from her bedroom, I’ll be introducing you to my spiders.”

“Understood.”

* * *

Sabrina had just changed into her bathrobe when she heard a knock on her door. Figuring it to be her aunt, she cast a quick spell to unlock and open the door, allowing her entry. What she didn’t expect, was seeing Prudence Blackwell’s face when she looked into her mirror and made eye contact with the other witch. She immediately tightened the belt around her robe and frowned.

“What do you want, Prudence?” she asked, turning to face the other girl.

“I come in peace,” she said, holding her hands up for her to see it wasn’t a trick.

“What do you want, Prudence?” she repeated tiredly, her voice reflecting how lost and defeated she really felt.

“I want to talk,” answered the older witch, “that’s all.”

“What about?”

“You, mainly,” she replied, shrugging, “and whatever hang-ups you seem to have with sex.”

Sabrina groaned, falling back onto her bed dramatically. “I’m good, thanks,” she said, trying to dismiss the other girl. “I really don’t want to be having this conversation with you.”

“Would you prefer I send up Sister Hilda?” she asked, her voice cloyingly false in its brightness. “I mean, I don’t know what a couple of virgins would have to say on the subject, but I can send you poor old aunt up here to try to bumble her way through the conversation, instead of just talking to me. Or maybe,” she continued sarcastically, “you’d prefer to chat about what’s bothering you with Sister Zelda? I mean, she’d only spit fire if she knew how badly you wanted to take a poke from _Daddy_ , but you’d get to keep it in the family. I suppose there’s Lilith as well, but no one wants first-hand knowledge of their lover’s sexual appetite from a concubine. As for Ambrose…he’s a man. What do you have to lose in speaking with me, Sabrina?”

The half-witch sat back up and regarded the other girl warily. “What exactly about me and sex did you want to discuss? Did you not get in enough digs at the kitchen table earlier?”

“Please, Sabrina,” scoffed Prudence. “For all that you might wear the Dark Lord’s ardour on your neck and parts unseen, I know you’re the same timid little virgin you were during Lupercalia. You are far too uptight about sex to have had it. Which begs the question,” she said curiously, “why hasn’t _daddy_ dearest popped your cherry yet?”

“Prudence!” she exclaimed, flushing red.

“Our Dark Lord is a patient one, I’ll give Him that,” she said, regarding the other girl unimpressed.

“Prudence…just, no!”

“Aren’t you tired of being a virgin, Sabrina? If that was my daddy, I’d be riding that stallion until one of us dropped from exhaustion.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say?” she said desperately, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s…my father.”

“There it is,” she said softly, the penny dropped. “We finally get to the crux of the matter,” said the older girl, a small, relieved smile on her face. “Sabrina, my father intended to marry my brother to my sister to maintain purity in the Blackwood bloodline. Most witching families have dozens of similar unions. Had my birth been legitimate to start, it is more than likely I would have taken Lady Blackwood’s place when she died, and not your aunt.”

“But I’m—”

“Half-human,” agreed Prudence. “I understand, but you’re half-witch and celestial as well—a part of you that has been appallingly neglected. There is no one part of you that is more than the other. Sabrina, your biggest problem, that I can see, is that you haven’t spent nearly enough time among those who walk the Path of Night. You were raised among mortals, given mortal standards and ideals to live up to, you’ve completely overlooked the other side of you. Heaven, you allowed your mortal friends to nearly prevent you from taking your Dark Baptism.”

“I just feel…so conflicted,” the younger witch said miserably.

“Conflicted about what?” probed the older witch. “That you’re attracted to the Dark Lord?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Ambrose and my Aunties—”

“Your family feels the way they do about the Dark Lord, because that is how they believe you feel,” said Prudence, trying to get the message through the half-witch’s thick skull. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you, Sabrina. If you married the Dark Lord tomorrow, you wouldn’t be the first or last witch to marry into their family, you also wouldn’t be the youngest child bride. You would, however, still be loved and adored by your aunts and cousin. For Heaven’s sake, do you realize how many doors will open for your Aunt Zelda when it is found out her niece is married to the Dark Lord? Your family will want for nothing!”

“Prestige is no reason to marry—”

“It is for some,” countered Prudence, stopping the girl before she could continue.

“Not for me,” said Sabrina. “I want passion, romance…love.”

Prudence looked pointedly at Sabrina’s neck and said, “I believe you have the passion you want. The other things can come later, if they’re not already splintering your resolve to sabotage your own happiness.”

Sabrina sat on her bed silent and still while she thought about everything the other girl had said.

“I’ll leave you to stew on that for a bit,” offered Prudence, already backing out of her room. “Just remember, sex doesn’t have to be evil. In fact, Sex Magic is one of the most potent and heady experiences a witch can go through. Witches are sensuous beings. There’s nothing wrong with using your body in magic, or in love. Sometimes you have to be selfish and take what you want.”

Sabrina nodded once, unable to get her voice to work. She had a lot to think about, and no matter how much she wanted to bury her head in sand and pretend everything was back to normal, it wasn’t. Sixteen-year-old girls were not supposed to be lusting after their eons-old father. She fell back against the bed and groaned. Perhaps human school was in order today.

* * *

Prudence joined the Spellman family back in the kitchen, resuming her post underneath Ambrose’s arm.

“How’d it go?” her lover asked, kissing her neck.

“Better than I expected,” she admitted. “I think it’d be easier if everyone got on board now with the idea of Sabrina desiring a biblical relationship with her father. If she can ever get over her mortal guilt, that is.”

“If that’s what she wants,” shrugged Ambrose. “I could think of worse things to look at on family dinners.”

“Hush you,” tutted Hilda.

“There’s definitely desire on both sides,” she told her boyfriend’s aunt. “She’s going to need support from everyone she can get if you want her to be happy. I don’t foresee her mortal friends taking the news well, and I can only imagine how many jealous succubitches will be waiting to tear her down at the Academy once they get a hold of the news Sabrina's about to take Hell's most eligible bachelor off the market.”

* * *

Faustus stared at the forge the pagans had managed to fashion from the crude remains of their carnival. It wasn’t pretty, but it was well built and readily burning the offerings that had been assembled for the Olympian, Hephaestus.

The pagans kneeled before the forge, their hands in the air as they chanted to the foreign God of Ancient Greece, the pageantry enough to set the former satanic warlock’s teeth on edge.

“We call to Hephaestus,” prayed Pan, his voice ringing out clearly over the continued chanting of his followers. “Son of Hera, master of all craft and art. Lord of Fire and creator of the inconceivable, from whose skillful hands come intricacies undreamt. Accept this offering before us now and lend us your skill. By your hammer, molten metal flows like water instilled with the spark of the Divine. Unmatched armourer and forger of weapons to Gods and heroes, we ask your assistance. God of skills, we call to thee!”

Lightning struck the forge, splitting the hearth in two, and startling the pagans to their feet. From behind them, a slow and awkward step could be heard approaching. Faustus turned with the others and observed a lone man advance upon them. He was unhurried in his gait, dragging a club foot behind him. In one large hand, he held a hammer that doubled as a cane, causing the earth to tremble every time it touched the ground. His arms were thickly corded with muscle, and his thick beard and mane a light auburn. He was not a handsome man, but he was imposing.

“Why have you called me from Mount Olympus?” he demanded, his voice commanding as he settled against his great hammer and looked onto the small crowd. “We have not meddled in the affairs of men for over a thousand years. To what purpose do you invoke my skill?”

Faustus stood in awe of the Grecian giant before him, momentarily at a loss for words. He had hoped, but had not dared expect the pagans to succeed in calling forward the Greek God of the Forge.

“Great God Hephaestus,” he addressed, bowing deeply before the deity. “My name is Faustus Blackwood, and it is I that have need of your considerable talent.”

The God of Fire and Innovation studied the darkly dressed man before him with disdain. “You are not a practitioner of the old ways. Why should I treat with a worshipper of damnation?”

“Please,” he begged, falling to his knees and humbling himself before the God. “I stand before you, among your followers, to request your assistance on their behalf as well as my own,” he replied, looking up at the giant, who appeared curious of his appeal, despite himself. “The Church of Night seeks the destruction of the pagans before you here. In order to protect them, I have need of a harvesting scythe, like that of Chronos, the Master of Time,” explained the former High Priest. “I have in my possession an object of untapped potential energy, and in order to wield it, I require a tool of greater power still. I have the materials to create such a tool, but not the skill to fashion it.”

“What ingredients do you hold to devise such an item?” asked the God. “Chronos’ Scythe is an object that is in of itself not subjected to time and can exist always and never in an instant. To fashion its likeness, you would need items of similar properties.”

“I have brought with me tonight the bones of a phoenix—an immortal beast not bound to the ravages of time, Merlin’s staff forged from the wood of Brocéliande—an enchanted forest where all of time is fluid and stopped at once, and the alchemical sand from the hourglass of Father Time.”

Hephaestus regarded the stranger with slitted eyes. “This is a worthy offering,” he said at last. “You will rebuild this forge in seven days' time. On the seventh night, I will return with the item that you seek."

In a flash of lightning, he had gone.


	24. Take Me to Church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I just wanted to give you guys a heads up that my movers have finally arrived in town and will be unpacking me for the next few days, so updates may be a little thin heading into the weekend. I'm hoping to get at least a chapter out a day until then, but things should be back to normal by Saturday.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Happy Reading!

Sabrina trudged her way to Baxter High, second-guessing the decision to leave her room with every foot closer she got to the school. She could kick herself for falling asleep last night. She had no one to blame but herself for the way things played out. Who, in their right mind, falls asleep during an execution? The Plague Kings had been such a nuisance, and for so long, the event was practically popcorn worthy. Although, thinking back to this morning, Sabrina had to wonder if anyone would classify her as thinking clearly. She had never been more comfortable in a bed. Maybe the Dark Lord was on to something with all the gold, she slept like a million bucks.

She was already late for first period when she walked through the front doors, collecting a tardy slip from Mrs. Meeks at the office, before beelining for the library to set up shop for the rest of the period. After the morning she had, she didn’t need to add a dramatic entrance to class to her list of regrests. She’d just slip in for second period—or at least that would have been the case if the Baxter High Ravenettes weren’t mid-hustle by the couches.

“Hey Sabrina!” greeted her cheer captain, Lizzie. “We weren’t sure you were going to make it! We have a big pep rally after school today. We’re going to do a big send off for the Ravens. It’s their first big game against the Riverdale Bulldogs tonight.”

Sabrina felt the first genuine smile of the day spread across her face. Pep rallies were normal, non-hellraising, mortal fun. She could do with a bit of normal. “Sign me up!” she said, joining the circle, sidling up next to Roz, who appeared visibly conflicted having her best friend so close by. She probably should have found time to hit Fright Club last night, after Lucifer’s parting ‘wife-bomb’ to her friends.

“So, Sabrina,” began one of the other girls, a coy smile slipping into place that had Sabrina’s danger sense flagging mayday, prompting her to start looking for the closest exit and wondering if a wheezing cough, a high fever, or continuous shivering would get her aunt Hilda to the school faster. “You have the whole school buzzing over yesterday.”

“That’s right!” added Lizzie, her voice infectiously upbeat, offering some insight into why she was captain of the squad. “You’ve been holding out on us! Dish, Spellman! I heard Ms. Wardwell’s class was interrupted by a mysterious hottie pulling you out of school. Are you seeing a college student?”

“More like a mature businessman,” corrected one of the older girls on the team, Molly she thought, trying to place her name. “I saw him outside of your classroom when Mr. Caseman kicked me out of math. He was so hot. I was praying he was the new principal. I would volunteer to sit in his office all day.”

Sabrina felt her throat dry up and was beginning to wonder why she bothered leaving Hell this morning. She was headed there anyway, sooner than later. She prayed to Satan to get through the rest of the day

“Come on, Sabrina!” urged Jules, one of Sabrina’s classmates. “He was smokin’! Even Ms. Wardwell got tongue-tied trying to talk to him. Is he an uncle or something?”

“Or something,” she managed to squeak out.

“Will he be at the pep rally later?” asked one of the other girls, Stephanie, she was a senior along with Lizzie, and far too excited at the prospect of meeting Sabrina’s mystery man that had all the girls fawning over him.

“No!” denied Sabrina, earning more than a few pouts from the team. It’d be a cold day in Hell before she invited Lucifer to her school to watch her perform any kind of activity in a mini skirt. “He’s working,” she offered abruptly. “He works a lot. Out of town. In the South!”

“What does he do?”

“Sales,” she said brusquely, hoping to cut the conversation short and quash any more talk of the Dark Lord before He was somehow invoked to the High School by sheer will of her cheer squad.

“Sales?” repeated Jules, cynically.

“Contracts and procurement,” she insisted, nodding.

“How did you meet a Southern…salesman?”

“Church,” spouted Sabrina, panicking. “He goes to my Church when He’s in town.”

“I’ve never seen anyone like him in my Sunday school,” muttered another of Sabrina’s team, prompting the rest of the girls to burst into laughter.

“You’re not praying hard enough,” teased Jules.

“He can answer my prayers anytime!” said Molly with a whistle. “The man was fine, I tell you, _fine_!”

Once it became clear no one was going to get any more information out of Sabrina concerning her mystery man, the rest of the meeting when smoothly—the only anomaly being Roz. She had remained definitively distant throughout the whole ordeal.

* * *

Sabrina was careful not to praise Satan when she made it to lunch without any more excitement, and after changing into her uniform, decided to search of her friends and apologize for not meeting up with them the previous evening. She figured they had some questions for her and wanted to get any and all awkwardness out of the way so she could just enjoy whatever time she had left with them. She was surprised to find their regular haunt in the library empty. Nevertheless, Sabrina was determined to find them and ventured off in search of her friends elsewhere in the school.

She stopped outside Ms. Wardwell’s classroom, hearing Roz on the other side. “It’s not like I expected to see her after she didn’t show up last night. I didn’t know what to say.”

Sabrina froze, her hand extended out to push the door open, but unable to complete the task.

“This is ridiculous,” she heard Theo say. “Sabrina’s our friend! She’s going to be looking for us—”

“Is she though?” argued Harvey. “Let’s take a step back and evaluate a few things here. Sabrina has done nothing but keep secrets from us as long as we’ve known her. She only told us she was a witch after she fucked up my brother with her magic, and because the two of you found out on your own. Her father’s the devil. She imprisoned him inside her warlock boyfriend with our help, then turned around and set him free, without telling any of us. Now she might be dating _him_. Roz was turned to stone. Yes, Sabrina helped turn her back, but then she went out and burned down a carnival and ditched us to mack on her dad. What part of that screams _friend_ to you?”

“Harvey—”

“Hey Sabrina,” greeted Robin, startling her as he walked up behind her. “Are you looking for the others too?”

The silence on the other side of the door, let her know her friends were aware she was there.

“I was,” she said softly, stepping back from the door. “I think I might go eat in the library though.” She walked away from the green-haired pagan without another word, looking for some privacy before letting herself fall apart.

She made it as far as the girls’ bathroom, picking a stall and locking herself inside, needing time and space from everyone. Being human was supposed to come a lot easier to her than being a witch. Somehow, in the span of a few days, the opposite had become true.

* * *

To Theo, the second he heard Sabrina’s name, the world moved in slow-motion. He whipped around to open the door, but instead of his best friend, he was greeted by the stunned face of his boyfriend.

“Did you see where she ran off to?” asked Theo, looking at Robin pleadingly.

“She disappeared around the hall,” he answered apologetically. “I think I startled her—”

“It wasn’t you,” assured the younger boy, glaring over his shoulder at Harvey. He marched back into the class and shoved his friend. “Are you happy now? That was so uncalled for. After everything she’s done for us, that’s what you’ve narrowed our friendship down to?”

The lights flickered ominously in the classroom, before raining shattered glass all around them. Roz screamed, covering her head and ducking under one of the desks, the boys following suit soon after. The smell of sulfur burned the air as the ground trembled when a lone hoof cracked the ceramic floor of the class.

“Did someone mention my name?” came the polished voice of Lucifer Morningstar. “I could have sworn my ears were ringing with the sound of human.”

The four youths remained cowering under the desks as the Dark Lord looked down on them.

“Don’t tell me you’ve finally learned your place at my feet?” He asked, His tone far too moderate for their comfort.

“D-Dark Lord,” stuttered Theo.

“D-D-Dark Lord,” He mocked, flicking His wrist and throwing the desks off the four to splinter into the walls.

“What do you want?” yelled Harvey.

“Now that, is a very dangerous question,” He replied, approaching the teen.

The girl attempted to put herself between them, but another quick gesture had her thrown to the side.

The Dark Lord regarded the mortal boy with disdain. It was impossible to look upon him without seeing Sabrina’s tears or remembering her pain. “You are stain upon existence, Mr. Kinkle,” He said darkly. “My daughter, even now, would beg for your pardon if she knew I was here.” He smiled cruelly. “I can see you’re surprised at my being here. You can think of Greendale as though it had a microscope on it and ears everywhere. You cannot mention my name without me knowing. You cannot speak to Sabrina, without me knowing. Hell, I am celestial, boy, you cannot even speak to God, without my knowing.”

The other three didn’t dare move or intervene as the Dark Lord stood over Harvey.

“I made her a promise concerning your lot, which I will honour for her sake only. However, the insult you have given her will not go unpunished forever. For upsetting my daughter, I curse your family, your family name, and your progeny for all of its remaining generations. For upsetting the witch who is to be my wife,” He hauled the boy up by his neck, and struck him across the face, leaving three deep gauges. Gauges which rapidly faded back to normal leaving Harvey’s skin unmarred. “I have marked your soul as mine. None other will dare touch you, mortal. Not Heaven, not the Cosmos, not even my own horde in Hell. You cannot be saved, even death will spare you my wrath. Know that I wait for you at the end of your miserably short human life, and then you will know the meaning of punishment.”

The bell chimed, signalling the end of lunch, and the devil disappeared in a puff of black smoke, the classroom returned to its original state, the lights flickering back to life and the desks returned to their perfect even rows.

“Did…Did that really happen?” asked Robin, looking around the class confused.

Roz rushed over to Harvey to hold his arm, her _cunning_ offering a deeper insight of what had just happened. As she looked up at her boyfriend, she was horrified to see three ghastly wounds across his face where the Dark Lord had struck him. The torn skin flapped where it was ripped from his face, and she could see parts of his skull through the blood seeping from the marks.

“Roz?” called Harvey, breaking the grisly images her gifts had shown her, and returning her to the worried, handsome face of her boyfriend.

“Yes,” she said, reaching up to touch the unblemished skin of Harvey’s face. “That really happened,” she answered Robin.

“We should really find Sabrina,” insisted Theo, worried for his friend.

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Harvey, pulling away from Roz to glare at the younger boy. “After what just happened?”

“Sabrina isn’t her father, Harvey,” he shot back, “and our friend is hurting right now. I told you she would be looking for us. Did she even tell you she was coming to Fright Club last night?” he challenged, “or did you just assume she would, because you asked her to?”

The older boy’s silence said everything. Even Roz looked disappointed with her boyfriend.

“What?” demanded Harvey.

Any answer was cut short when Ms. Wardwell walked into her classroom.

“Mr. Kinkle, Ms. Walker, Mr. Putnam, and Mr. Goodfellow,” she said startled. “I don’t believe I have you this period.”

“Sorry Ms. Wardwell,” they answered over top of each other, scrambling to get out of the class.

“We’ll have to put our search for Sabrina on hold until after school,” said Roz sadly, praying there was still a friendship to salvage. “She agreed to take part in the pep rally, so hopefully she’ll be hanging around Baxter High until then.”

* * *

Sabrina sighed when she heard the lunch bell ring, signalling the ten-minute warning for next period. Walking out of the stall she’d claimed for lunch, she was startled to find Lucifer Morningstar standing by the sinks, looking so completely out of place in a red satin shirt and black trousers that she had to laugh. He tried to look put-upon by her amusement, but she could see the twinkle in His eye, signalling His own good humour.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not altogether displeased to see Him.

“Should it really come as surprise to you that I check up on you from time to time?” He replied, reaching out for her.

“I suppose not,” she agreed, allowing Him to cup her face gently.

“You were quite upset when you left Hell this morning. Are you feeling better?”

“I am now,” she replied, soaking in the comfort He was trying to provide. “It’s been a bit of a rough morning. I ran into a few problems that I hadn’t expected.” She thought about her run-in with Nick at Dorian’s Gray Room and overhearing her human friends at the start of lunch. Nope, she thought, it had not been a great morning.

She realized she hadn’t been paying Him any attention for a few minutes and looked up to find the Dark Lord studying her. A spark of interest flitted across His face as He took in her outfit.

“There’s a pep rally later this afternoon,” she explained, looking down at her uniform. “The Varsity Football team is taking on our rival High School. We’re supposed to put on a show to get them amped up for tonight’s game.”

“Oh?” He said, reaching down to play with the hem of her skirt, “and what time should this football team of yours expect to be amped up.”

She shook her head at Him. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you stand out in a crowd. You’ve made a big enough impression on the Ravenettes with your brief appearance yesterday at the school. I’ve already told them you’re out of town on business, and not to expect you.”

Though He tried not to show it, He practically preened at the compliment, even as He questioned her lie. “Business?”

“Yes. You work in sales,” she said seriously. “Contracts and procurement.”

He laughed at that. “Perhaps I should make a surprise visit,” He said, lowering His head to catch her lips softly with His own. “If you’ve already spoken about me at length to your friends—”

“They saw you here!” she interrupted. “I’ve had to lie about you all morning.”

“Pray tell,” He said, amused by her anger. “Where did we meet?”

“…Church.”

He was still laughing when she stormed out of the bathroom to run to class.


	25. Go R-A-V-E-N-S!

To Theo and Roz, it seemed as though Sabrina was dodging them at every given opportunity. If group work came up in class, she was quick to partner up with someone else, when it came to switching classes, she was always the first one out the door. Shy of tying her to a chair and forcing her to listen to them, Sabrina didn’t seem to have the time of day for her mortal friends, not that either of them could blame her.

Roz was beginning to think it was going to come down to the pep rally for any kind of positive interaction to occur with her best friend, until she happened to walk by the library on her free period, and saw the white-haired teen sitting in their usual hang-out on the couch.

“Hey ‘Brina,” she said tentatively, moving to sit down in the seat across from her. Roz reached out to place a hand on her arm, before she could try to tidy up her books and leave. “Do you have a minute?”

Sabrina remained rigid under her friend’s hand but made no further attempt to leave.

“There’re a few things that I think we should talk about,” she continued, encouraged to press forward, when Sabrina settled further into the couch, her attention firmly on Roz. “I never really thanked you for everything that you did for me, and I don’t just mean turning me back from stone.”

At Sabrina’s inquiring look, she added, “you went after Harvey at the carnival—even after warning him against going there. It was dangerous, and you put yourself out there for us. We take for granted the lengths you’d go for us. You restored my sight, turned me back from stone, and rescued my boyfriend—your ex. I’ve been a pretty poor friend in return, especially today.”

Sabrina sighed. “You don’t have to thank me for Harvey, Roz. Robin’s the one who got him out of the carnival anyway.”

“Regardless of what Robin did,” said Roz, “you were prepared to get him out of there whatever the cost. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you earlier. You surprised me when you showed up at the cheer meeting this morning. I didn’t expect you’d be coming to school today. You have to admit,” she pressed, trying to appeal to her friend, “your attendance at Baxter High has been pretty sporadic lately.”

“I guess,” she said, shrugging.

“Anyway, when Harvey got back home from dropping Billy and his friends off, he said that you were going to stop by that evening to chat about everything that had happened—”

“And by everything, you mean the Dark Lord,” interrupted Sabrina, feeling herself growing annoyed.

“Well…yes,” agreed Roz, trying to comprehend why her friend was having such a difficult time understanding why her father’s presence, and everything he had said, might inspire one or two questions for the young witch. “Sabrina, the last time we saw your father,” she paused to look around, making sure no one was within ear shot, before continuing. “The last time we saw your father, outside of a flesh prison, He was trying to start Hell on Earth. You had us standing at the Gates of Hell, trying to ward off the hordes of Hell.”

“I know—”

“It’s weird for us,” stressed Roz. “I want to be there for you. I want to understand and support you in your witch business, ‘Brina, but sometimes it’s really hard. Your dad was public enemy number one as of three-four days ago, now…now, He’s…I don’t know what He is, Sabrina. He referred to you as His wife.”

Sabrina felt her anger begin to deflate at Roz’s attempts to vocalize her confusion. Considering how much trouble she was having putting a name to their…thing, she could appreciate how much more strange it must seem to Roz, Theo, and—

“Does Harvey know?” she asked abruptly, frowning when Roz appeared very bashful all of sudden.

“I owe you another apology,” she said, guiltily. “I told him. I don’t know why I did it, but I told Harvey what the Dark Lord called you. I take some of the responsibility for how antagonistic he’s been. He didn’t take the news well. Robin actually tried to explain it all to us…something about blood purity and how things work differently in the witching world, but…yeah.”

“I’m not His wife, Roz,” Sabrina said quietly.

“You said that yesterday, too. You said that you were His future wife…”

“I am,” she admitted, unconsciously beginning to rub the small seal behind her ear. Seeing her friend continue to struggle, Sabrina decided to lay it all out there for Roz to understand. “My Coven was almost wiped out.”

Her friend remained silent in shock.

“The pagans that turned you to stone…they came after my Coven. After we imprisoned the Dark Lord, He withdrew His gifts from us,” explained Sabrina. “We no longer had access to our regular power, and the pagans were picking us off. We had no way to stop them or protect ourselves.”

“Oh my God!”

Sabrina frowned at the memory. “It was pretty bad. We didn’t have any choice left but to appeal to the Dark Lord to save us. We made a deal—He and I made a deal,” she clarified, pulling down the neck of her white turtleneck to show Roz one of the small devil’s seals. “The long and short of it is, I agreed to free Him and give Him the Throne in Hell, in return for His protection.”

“What does that have to do with marriage?”

“The Throne of Hell comes with me included.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Thinking back on the vision her _cunning_ had shown her, Roz asked, “how do you feel about that? About Him?”

Sabrina opened her mouth to answer but couldn’t find the words. The truth of the matter was, she wasn’t sure anymore. She was so conflicted about the whole situation that she didn’t know what to think. Part of her was still in love with Nick, part of her, she could admit, had grown in love with the power she had assumed in Hell, part of her wanted to do everything in her power to look for a loophole to get away from the Dark Lord, and then, there was a small, infinitesimal, speck of a part of her—that may have gained more traction than she was would ever confess, that was intensely attracted to Him and wanted to yield.

“I don’t know,” she answered finally. “It’s complicated. More than I thought it would be.”

It was on the tip of her tongue for Roz to tell Sabrina about her vision, but watching her friend tear herself up inside trying to put her emotions to words, Roz decided that it would be best to leave it up to Sabrina to figure out for herself. There was no point in making things more convoluted than they already were.

The final bell rang, announcing the end of school, prompting both girls to collect their things. Before they parted ways to drop off their books in their lockers, Roz stopped Sabrina. “If it’s not too weird, maybe you could speak to your father, after the rally, about removing the curse he placed on Harvey?” she requested hesitantly. “I know he hasn’t been the most supportive friend, but I’m not sure it was worth eternal damnation in Hell.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sabrina, confused. “What curse?”

“During Lunch, while we were in Ms. Wardwell’s class, the Dark Lord appeared,” she recounted. “He was angry…angrier than when you betrayed Him at the masquerade, and condemned Harvey’s soul to Hell.”

“Shut the Heaven up!”

* * *

Unfortunately for Sabrina, she didn’t have much time between dropping off her books and heading for the field to give the Harvey debacle much thought. It was driven further from her mind when she was ordered into formation by Lizzie, and the rally began.

* * *

Like many of the sons and daughters of Greendale, Reverend Thomas Walker was a proud supporter of the community, so when his own daughter told him they’d be doing a pep rally for the Baxter High Ravens before their big match in Riverdale, the good Reverend was in the bleachers along with the rest of Greendale’s favourite sons’ families, cheering with the crowd as the Ravenettes performed for the masses. It had been a strong turn out, he noticed, looking around the energetic crowd.

There was only one face he didn’t recognize in the throng of people around him. One man, far too over dressed for the event in an all-black suit, stood a little way off from the bleachers, his attention firmly in place on the spectacle taking part on the field. Not one to shy away from strangers, Reverend Walker took a walk over to the male and introduced himself.

“Reverend Walker,” he said without preamble, holding his hand out for the other man to shake.

“You don’t say,” responded the stranger, appearing darkly amused by the introduction. His hands remained securely in his pockets with no intention of returning the gesture. “What can I help you with, Reverend?” he asked in a polished tone.

“I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t from around here,” he said, letting his hand fall back to his side. “I was wondering what brought a man from out of town, dressed as you are, to a high school event.”

“A woman,” he replied casually, looking back onto the field as the girls executed the last few steps of their choreography.

“Mr…”

“Yes?” he asked annoyed, not bothering to offer his name or look back at the mortal.

“These are _High School_ girls, my daughter one of them—”

“Yes, thank you, Reverend,” interrupted the man, turning to walk away and disappearing entirely as the crowd erupted in cheers around him, the show over.

He felt a pair of arms hug him from behind as he tried to catch sight of the stranger he’d been speaking with.

“You came,” said Roz, delighted. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it so last minute. Who are you looking for?”

“There was a strange man hanging around,” replied the Reverend, turning to face his only child, his own face a mask of worry. “He was watching you and your friends performing on the field. I wanted to know who he was and why he was here. He left abruptly.”

“Who was he?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What did he look like?” asked Sabrina, coming over to join them. “He didn’t have curly hair and a fancy, tailored suit, did He?”

“That about covers him exactly,” said the Reverend suspiciously. “Do you know him?”

“Yes.”

“He said he was here for a woman,” he added pointedly. “He looked a little older than a college student, and much better dressed.”

“Well, I’m going to see if I can go catch up with Him,” she said awkwardly, darting off in the direction the stranger had disappeared.

A few of his daughter’s team joined them after the white-haired teen had run off.

“Where did Sabrina run off too?” asked Lizzie. “We were going to do a little impromptu practice and try out a new move."

“Her…businessman showed up,” offered Roz, hoping the girls wouldn’t have too many more questions for her in front of her father. There was only so much she wanted to share with him about her friend’s new…it’s complicated.

“I thought I recognized her mystery man,” said Molly excitedly.

“Sabrina’s dating this man?” asked the Reverend, scandalized. “Are her aunts aware?” he asked his daughter. “I don’t believe he’s an appropriate age for her to be socializing with in a romantic capacity. He’s quite a bit older. Have you met him before? Why am I only hearing of this now?”

“He’s a recent development,” she said, trying to figure out how much to reveal to her father to avoid a grounding. “I met Him a few months ago. I didn’t mention Him because it didn’t seem that important. He wasn’t dating her then and He travels a lot. I don’t know if Sabrina even knew He was going to show up here tonight.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t want you palling around her new beau. There’s something not right about him.”


	26. Fatherly Advice

Sabrina followed after the Dark Lord in the direction Reverend Walker had pointed, hoping Roz would run interference with her father. That last thing she needed was Roz’s dad calling up her aunties to give them grief over her ‘seeing’ an older man.

‘ _Dark Lord_?’ called Sabrina. She’d walked as far as the grove of trees where she’d been born, without catching sight of Him.

‘ _Daughter_ ,’ greeted the Dark Lord, seconds before an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against a tall, hard body. A hand began toying with the hem of her skirt, a familiar hand with a large contract on the back.

“You came to the rally,” she accused, turning to face Him, His arms still wrapped around her and playing in her skirt as she attempted to scold Him.

“Everyone’s parents were in attendance,” He said innocently.

“You did not come there as a parent,” she countered.

“No,” He agreed, stroking His hand through her hair. “I came to watch and support my beloved. As expected, you were breathtaking.”

She shivered in His arms. His honeyed words devastated her ability to stay focused and angry with Him. He was a serpent with a silver tongue. “Thank you,” she whispered, trying to avoid looking Him directly in the eye. She had to get out what she wanted to say before He completely overwhelmed her. Try as she might to say otherwise, the second He kissed her, she was done for. “I told you, you stand out in a crowd—that’s not a compliment,” she added quickly when His smile only grew. “I don’t know what you said to Roz’s dad, but I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t call my aunties and accuse me of…living in sin with an older man, or something along those lines.”

“We do live in sin, daughter,” He said, amused by her temper, leaning down to take her mouth in a searing kiss. “Once we are wed,” He added, punctuating each word with another kiss, “I will delight in showing you every sin I have planned for your delectable body.” He pulled away to whisper in her ear, “I wonder what the good Reverend would have to say about that?”

“You’re evil,” she whispered, allowing Him to take her breath away with another kiss.

He proceeded to show her just how evil He could be. He pressed her between Himself and one of the trees nearby, keeping her pinned where He wanted. His hands crept up under her skirt, where His clever fingers played with her panty line, all the while kissing her breathless.

She pulled away from His lips and pressed her forehead against His chest. “I was happy you were there,” she admitted, before turning serious, “but it can’t happen again. The optics are terrible. Look at what happened today. You were called out by a Reverend, of all people.”

“Why should I hide from mortals? Who cares what they think? You do realize you’ll be leaving Greendale once you and I are married,” He pointed out, turning her face back up to look at Him.

“I gathered that,” she replied sadly.

“Take heart, Sabrina. It won’t be forever,” He promised. “You and I are destined to start and rule Hell on Earth.”

“Why? What point is there in creating a Hell on Earth?”

“Someone has to bring the mortals under thumb. They’ve been running wild since the Garden.”

“Speaking of mortals,” she said, finding some of the anger that had left her earlier. “Is it true that you cursed Harvey? Roz told me you condemned his soul to Hell!”

“Daughter,” He said exasperated, pulling away from her annoyed. “I would not forgive a demon for making you cry. If you recall, I recognize you fell asleep in all the excitement, but I executed three demons in your name already. Why would you expect me to allow a mortal to insult and cut you down? The boy is nothing, no—he is less than nothing. If you’re worried about our bargain, the conditions stand. While your mortal friends live, and our contract is valid, I will continue to help you baby them.”

“No,” she said, infuriated. “Harvey may have been harsh, maybe—maybe even an asshole, but he hasn’t done anything to deserve eternal damnation.”

“He’s human. Good enough.”

“No. It’s not,” she said.

“Sabrina—” He was stopped before He could finish His thought, by Sabrina jerking on His tie to bring His face down to her own, kissing Him passionately. She once against found herself pinned between Him and something hard against her back and allowed the glorious feeling of desire to wash over her. She snaked her fingers into His curls, and let Him lift her legs around His waist, cradling His growing bulge against her centre. She moved wantonly against Him, the friction both too much and not nearly enough.

His eyes were dark and dilated when she managed to pull away. “Please,” she whispered, forcing a bark of laughter from Him when He realized her ploy.

“My cruel and clever, daughter,” He praised, His head coming to fall between her breasts. “I will think on it,” He said eventually, letting her slide back down to her feet. “I make no promises.”

* * *

She let Him walk her home, neither of them particularly talkative following the Dark Lord’s concession to reconsider His arrangement with Harvey. The silence allowed Sabrina to bask in the safety and comfort His presence offered her without feeling much guilt.

He was the first to notice the younger of Sabrina’s aunts waiting for her on the porch to the Spellman’s residence. He had planned to leave after escorting her home, but seeing Sabrina’s confusion at her aunt’s nervous energy on the landing, made Him pause.

“Sabrina, darling,” she said, when they were close enough to hear. “You have some guests in the sitting room. Zelda is with them now.” Hilda regarded the foreboding figure of the Dark Lord and gulped. “Dark Lord,” she greeted, unsure of what else to say.

Sabrina rushed in the house past her aunt, Lucifer temporarily forgotten as she walked into the sitting room, feeling like a lead weight had been dropped oner chest when she saw Roz and her father sitting across from her aunt Zelda.

“Sabrina,” greeted Zelda, her expression pinched in disappointment. “Your friend Roz and her father, the Reverend Walker, dropped in to speak with us about a _visitor_ you had at school. An older businessman, who came to watch your performance at a pep rally. He had some _concerns_ about the company you might be keeping and the _appropriateness_ of that relationship.”

Sabrina’s gaze travelled to her friend, who offered an apologetic look. It wasn’t her fault though, Lucifer had created this debacle by not listening to her in the first place. The young witch stood frozen in the doorway, unable to think of anything to say in return.

“I came here to speak as one parent to another,” he told her, observing her hesitate to come any further into the room. “You’re not in trouble, Sabrina—”

“That is yet to be seen,” muttered Zelda.

“No one is more important, than God’s children, for they shall inherit His Kingdom,” continued the Reverend. “It was my duty to ensure your aunts were aware of the man that came to see you tonight. A man, my daughter tells me, you’ve been seeing romantically. It was a matter of safety, Sabrina, yours. You’re young and impressionable, and I didn’t want to see you taken advantage of by a grown man who should know better than to engage in sinful behaviours with a minor.”

“I—” Sabrina was struggling to find any words to offer. She couldn’t decide if she should refute the allegations of dating an older man or confess and be done with it.

“Sabrina, in the book of Corinthians it is said: ‘no temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.’ I am here for you now, to help liberate you from that temptation.”

“I don’t need saving, Reverend Walker,” she said, indignant. “I appreciate your concern, but—”

“What seems to be the problem,” asked the polished, dulcet tones of the Father of Temptation, coming to join the gathering in the sitting room, His hand coming to rest possessively on Sabrina’s side as He looked down on the mortal man, enjoying the his sputtering when Sabrina made no motion to remove and refuse His touch.

Thomas Walker stood up in the presence of Lucifer Morningstar, his gaze as incendiary as his words. “This is the man I spoke of,” he told Sabrina’s aunt, pointing at the Dark Lord with disdain. “You have some nerve coming into this house, and no shame putting your hand on this girl.”

The Dark Lord smiled darkly. “I have walked these halls a number of occasions, Reverend. I have all the right to be here.”

Thomas looked at Zelda aghast. “This man is known to you?”

Zelda looked frightened as the Dark Lord turned His attention on her. “He is the head of our Church,” she said quietly. “He…stays with us from time to time and has always been welcome in this house.”

“He doesn’t seem much of a God-faring man,” scoffed the Reverend, dubious of the claim. “I hate to speak ill of the cloth, but there’s a place for religious leaders that touch children.”

“Hell?” offered Lucifer.

“Prison. It is the most despicable and evil of sins to lust and carry on with a child,” he spat at the other man.

“Good and Evil are words that matter to the False—”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” ordered Sabrina, annoyed with both men. “Reverend, I appreciate your concern with my relationship with Lucifer, but it is my decision. I have already spoken at length with my aunties on the subject.” She looked the Reverend dead in the eye when she added, “we’re getting married. There’s nothing more to be said.”

She took the wind right out of his sails, his righteous anger quashed by a single phrase. “Married,” he repeated shocked, looking from the couple to Sabrina’s aunt Zelda with alarm. “You would allow this?”

“My niece means everything to me, Thomas,” she replied coldly, her patience for the pageantry taking place before her at its end. “Had my sister and I not supported this union, she would have undoubtedly runaway and been done with it without us. I have no intention of abandoning my niece, not to anyone,” she added pointedly. “She could do a lot worse for choice than…the head of our Church.”

‘ _You know, this all could have been avoided if you had just played the dad card from the beginning_ ,’ Sabrina directed angrily at the Dark Lord.

‘ _We can play Daddy later_ ,’ He promised lasciviously, eating up the despair on the Reverend’s face.

“I think Roz and I will see ourselves out,” said the Reverend abruptly, gesturing for his daughter to follow him out of the sitting room, not bothering to spare any of the Spellmans or the Dark Lord another glance. “I can see we were mistaken in coming here.” He paused at the door to ask one thing of the white-haired teen. “In the future, please leave my family out of whatever it is you and yours get up to. I don’t want Roz around your kind of influence.”

Before her dad could haul her away from the house, Roz touched Sabrina’s arm and said, “I’m calling a Fright Club meeting tonight. Come to Harvey’s garage around eight. You need to tell the others what you told me earlier. Don’t put too much stock in what my dad said. You’re my best friend, I’m not going to abandon you.”

The front door slammed as both Walkers exited the house, leaving an unpleasant silence sitting on the Spellman residence.


	27. Acceptance

Zelda’s glare could have curdled milk as she looked at the infernal couple before her, though she dared not voice her disappointment aloud for fear of retribution against the Coven. She would wait for the Dark Lord’s return to Pandemonium before crossing words with the young Queen of Hell. As it happened, she didn’t have long to wait.

“I fear I will have to cut our time short,” said the Dark Lord at last, His expression akin to guilt as He looked upon His future wife. “I have been away from Hell too long as it is. With the realms still in chaos from my initial imprisonment, it would not be wise to leave the seat of power empty of a Morningstar for too long a time.”

Sabrina nodded shakily, her mind a flurry of activity as she continued to process the last few minutes of Reverend Walker’s visit. Had she really just told her best friend’s father that she was getting married? Did that mean she was coming to accept it? She thought about what her aunt Zelda had said, about how Sabrina could do a lot worse than tying herself to the Dark Lord and wondered if that was her way of saying she supported the union.

“The next time I appear before you, daughter, you will be joining me in Hell for our Unholy Matrimony.”

That brought her back to the present.

“Pardon?” she asked, blinking rapidly as she digested the words.

“The next time I walk the Earth, you will be returning with me to Hell, my Queen,” He repeated patiently. “I have waited long enough, daughter. Our contract demands our union, and I will not be denied what is mine”

“There’s still the pagans—”

“In good time, Sabrina,” he dismissed, unconcerned.

“How long?” she asked, looking up at Him, forgetting her aunt’s presence momentarily.

He cupped her cheek with His contracted hand and leaned down to press a small kiss to her mouth. “Soon,” He whispered, against her lips. “I will not leave you long, daughter, but I must assemble the nobles before such an event can take place.” The Dark Lord look past Sabrina to her aunt, and added, “your family and Coven may attend you at the ceremony if you wish their participation. Your humans are another matter.”

“But—”

“Hell is no place for mortals, daughter,” He said with a note of finality. 

“Then we have the ceremony here,” she demanded, equally fierce. “My friends may not agree with everything I do, they may not even support this marriage, Heaven, they may even refuse to attend, but I want to give them the chance to be there with me.”

“The nobles—”

“They can have your coronation,” she insisted. “We can even have a second ceremony to appease them, I don’t care. I want my friends to be with me when I get married.”

“Fine,” He said, pulling away from her. “We wed tomorrow at your Desecrated Church. Your aunt can perform the ceremony.”

The Dark Lord disappeared in a puff of smoke before she could say anything else. She stared at the empty space before her, unsure what to think. Married tomorrow. Married. Tomorrow. She was going to be married to the Dark Lord and have her life irrevocably changed tomorrow. She crumpled into one of the chairs in the room, unaware of the storm brewing across from her.

Sabrina hadn’t even noticed her aunt move, until she was looking at her shoes in front of her. She craned her neck back to look up at Zelda and gulped. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked, anger and disappointment warring with each other on her face. “Was it your intention to draw further attention to this family? We haven’t been such a spectacle since your refusal to participate in your own Dark Baptism. Even longer since we were paid any mind by mortals!”

“Auntie—”

“Don’t you _dare_ Auntie me!” she fumed. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble Thomas Walker could wreak on our family? Did you even think about us before you decided to parade a relationship you didn’t even want, around to the mortals?”

“I didn’t—”

“They could try to take you away from us, Sabrina. If Thomas Walker placed a call into Child Services, they could launch an investigation into our family! By all perception, my sister and I have allowed our sixteen-year-old niece to cavort with an older man,” she all but shouted at the white-haired half-witch.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing the Dark Lord plans to take me to Hell after our wedding tomorrow,” said Sabrina, getting up and walking away.

* * *

Zelda watched her niece walk away with a smattering of remorse. She wasn’t angry with the girl, so much as she was scared. She was losing her niece. It didn’t matter if it was through Thomas Walker or the Dark Lord, Zelda was losing the baby girl she had raised as her own. She already felt the loss keenly.

Her sister knocked on the wall, just inside the room, announcing her presence.

“I saw Sabrina storm off,” she said hesitantly. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course not, sister,” she snapped. “Everything is far from alright. Thomas Walker has become aware of Sabrina’s betrothal to the Dark Lord—”

“How in Heaven—”

“And our niece is to be wed tomorrow.”

Hilda balked.

“Did you hear me?” asked Zelda, impatient with her sister’s response.

“S-Sabrina? _Our_ Sabrina is getting married…tomorrow?” repeated Hilda, praying she heard wrong.

“Yes. The Dark Lord means to marry our niece at the Desecrated Church tomorrow,” said Zelda robotically.

“So soon?”

“Honestly, Hilda, she finished the quest for the Dark Lord yesterday, I am surprised they are not already wed, much as I am against it,” said Zelda, trying to appear less affected than she was.

“I know, but I thought we’d have more time. It all seems too sudden. I mean, we’ve only had her sixteen years, Zelda. For Heaven’s sakes, we’ve had Ambrose on house arrest longer than we’ve had Sabrina in our lives.”

“I would steal her away tonight if I believed she would go with us willingly,” admitted Zelda, “I would incur the Dark Lord’s wrath a hundred and twenty times over to spare her a future in Hell, but I don’t believe she would. To be honest, seeing her interact with the Dark Lord, I’m not entirely convinced our niece is not infatuated with Satan.”

* * *

It had been a silent and uncomfortable drive from the Spellman Mortuary to Roz’s house, a silence which followed the Walker family into dinner.

“Dad,” began Roz, interrupting her father, who had excused himself from the table to go to his study to prepare his sermons for the rest of the week. “Harvey’s going to pick me up at seven-thirty to catch a movie,” Roz told her father.

“Will it just be the two of you?” he asked, suspicious.

It was on the tip of her tongue to lie, but she thought about what she said to Sabrina as she was leaving. She promised not to abandon her friend, and she had no intention of starting to now. “Dad, the situation with Sabrina—”

“I have made my position abundantly clear where your…friend, is concerned,” said her father, strictly. “I do not want you anywhere near that girl or her family.”

“Dad, they’re not like us,” she reasoned. “The Spellmans follow a different faith and have completely different beliefs than us. That doesn’t make them bad. Aren’t you the one who always talks about inclusion and accepting the differences in others—”

“Rosalind Walker, I am your father, and I expressly forbid you from hanging around with Sabrina and her family! I plan on calling the school tomorrow to have the two of you moved into separate classes, and letting Joe Putnam and Mr. Kinkle know who their letting their boys chum around with.”

“Dad! You can’t!”

“I have a duty as a parent, and as a leader in the community, to keep that very same community and its children safe,” he said.

“All you’ll succeed in doing is creating a witch hunt for Sabrina and her family. There’s nothing wrong with them,” shouted Roz. “You don’t even know everything they’ve done for Greendale, or everything they’ve done for me.”

“My word is final.”

Roz left her father’s study and stormed out of the house. She would be meeting Harvey early.

* * *

Sabrina left the house almost immediately after Zelda blew up on her, heading to the Academy to search out the only other person she felt she could speak with. She teleported into the Grand Hall, and quickly darted to the faculty wing, searching out Madam Satan.

She walked past a number of offices, before stumbling upon the one she had been looking for. Before she could knock, the door swung open on its own, beckoning the young witch inside.

“Sabrina,” greeted Lilith, shutting the door behind the white-haired witch with a flick of his wrist. “What can I do for the Queen of Hell?”

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” she said, sitting down heavily in the chair opposite of Lilith.

The Mother of Monsters regarded the young woman blankly. “You knew it was coming to that,” she pointed out. “You carry that promise on the tip of your tongue. There’s nothing I can do about it and there’s nothing you can do about it either. That contract would kill you for trying and He would kill me for even entertaining the thought.”

“It’s not that,” she admitted softly. “Lucifer showed up at my High School during a pep rally. Roz’s dad confronted Him and found out that He was…there for me, and proceeded to my house to confront my aunts about my relationship with Him. I may have let it slip that we were getting married.”

The demoness frowned at the girl before her, confused more than anything. “I’m not seeing the problem. A simple forgetting spell would—”

“Too many mortals are aware of Him,” she said, interrupting Lilith. “I’d have to spell all of Greendale.”

“Well,” continued the Mother of Monsters, “is the good Reverend and the rest of these mortals aware that Lucifer is your father?”

“…No.”

“Well then, provided your aunts have assured their permission, there isn’t anything he can do,” she reasoned. “Sure a human investigation can be launched, but at the end of the day, as long as your legal guardians approved the union, even the mortals’ hands are tied. Besides, you’ll be moved to Hell following the wedding. This problem will clear right up on its own.”

“I guess,” agreed Sabrina.

Madam Satan regarded the young girl speculatively. “What is really bothering you, Sabrina?”

She bit her lip, unsure of how to say it, and how it would be received by the former lover of the Dark Lord. “I…volunteered the information that Lucifer and I were betrothed.”

Lilith regarded her as though she had a second head. “…you are,” she pointed out.

“I know,” agreed Sabrina, shaking her head. “I know what I’m saying sounds stupid, and I’m not making sense. Heaven, I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say.”

“Can I hazard a guess?” offered Lilith, a small smirk growing on her face.

Sabrina gestured for her to continue.

“You’re miserable because you’re enamoured with the Dark Lord—”

“There is _no_ way that’s true,” denied Sabrina vehemently.

“I know the look on your face well, just as I know the feelings in your heart,” said the Mother of Monsters calmly, unfazed by the teen witch’s fury. “I have worn that look, just as I have felt what you have. You may be deep, deep, _deep_ in denial, but you are, at the very least, attracted to the Dark Lord.”

“I-I—”

“You’ve been seeing Him, haven’t you?” she pressed, enjoying the girl’s squirming. “Not just in Hell or on Earth, but in dreams as well. Is that where you learned of His predilection for a certain dark red fruit?”

She smiled victoriously when Sabrina could only blush in reply.

“I knew things had progressed between the two of you after catching you in the throes of passion, straddling Him as He feasted on your flesh in Pandemonium, but I see things have moved much further along considering how easy you were able to see through the Dark Lord’s glamour in Hell.”

“I—”

“You may be vestal, but you desire Him, Sabrina. Maybe as much as He desires you.”

“Lilith—”

“That is what is truly bothering you, is it not? That you aren’t more upset by the thought of tying yourself to the Dark Lord?”

“I…” Sabrina couldn’t bring herself to answer, too frightened by what might come out of her mouth. She could readily admit to herself that she was attracted to the Dark Lord, anything else she was still coming to terms with. “I should get ready for tomorrow,” she said finally, getting up to leave.

“Sabrina,” said Madam Satan, stopping her. “There is no shame in desiring Him—”

“Will you stand with me tomorrow?” she asked, cutting off the Mother of Monsters. “Zelda will be officiating, while Hilda and Ambrose will likely be giving me away. I could use a solid presence to stand next to me at the front.”

Lilith could not have been more surprised. “You want me to be a part of your wedding?”

“If it’s not too weird for you,” confirmed Sabrina.

The Dawn of Doom was surprised to realize it wasn’t, and even more shocked at the flattery she felt by the request. “It would be an honour, your majesty.”


	28. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Merry Post-Christmas and an early Happy New Year!! Sorry about the delay, but thank you for sticking with me! I decided to wait until Part 4 of Sabrina came out before investing more plot into this story. I want to get a better idea of what to expect on CAOS' take on the Eldritch.

As seven-thirty rolled around, Sabrina strolled into Harvey’s garage, where the rest of the Fright Club had already collected.

“Hey guys,” she said awkwardly, sidling onto one of the couches. Theo, Roz, and Robin at least looked happy to see her, and greeted her in kind. Harvey looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but around her. She figured with him being recently cursed by her father, that was probably fair.

Sabrina looked at the faces of her three dearest friends, and her newest friend and ally, Robin. “I want to thank you all for meeting with me tonight. I know a lot has happened lately, some of which you aren’t even aware of yet, and all of it confusing. I know you guys have questions for me, and I’m going to try to answer everything as best I can,” she promised, trying to gauge how receptive her friends were.

“Go on, ‘Brina,” urged Theo, supportive of the young wish. “We’re here for you.”

“I owe all of you an apology—”

Harvey’s scoff interrupted her, prompting Theo and Roz to shove him on her behalf.

“Go on, ‘Brina,” repeated Theo, shooting Harvey a glare in his friend’s defence.

“I owe all of you an apology,” she repeated, pausing a moment in case of another outburst. “A few days ago my Coven was nearly wiped out. The pagans that turned Roz to stone, well, they came after my Coven as well.”

Robin nodded, supporting her claim. “Pan noticed your Coven did not appear to have access to their regular power.”

“We didn’t,” admitted Sabrina, confusing the others. “Had Pan decided to take out the Coven when he had Dorcas turned to stone, we likely wouldn’t have survived.”

“But you’ve been using magic,” pointed out Theo, confused. “You’ve been doing it the whole time during your quest thing.”

“No,” she countered. “Ever since Lucifer was locked in a flesh prison, He’d been pulling the gifts He had bestowed on my Coven, our powers. He did it so slowly at the start, no one noticed until one of the students at the Academy tried to fly and fell to his death. The Dark Lord did the same thing in 1612 to the Pendle Coven—which ultimately led to their demise.”

Sabrina smiled sadly at her friends. “We were desperate. My Coven’s numbers were already significantly depleted by Father Blackwood poisoning them. Heaven, you guys remember when the witch-hunters were here. We barely stood a chance with our powers then, it would have been no different. We didn’t have any options left. On the Hare-Moon the pagans turned Dorcas to stone and made Agatha go mad.”

“ _You_ set him free?” accused Harvey, realizing what she was trying to say. “You set the Dark Lord free.”

“I made a bargain with Him,” corrected Sabrina. “Things had gotten really bad, Harvey. We couldn’t protect ourselves, so I cut a deal with the only person who could protect us.” Sabrina pulled down the neck of her turtleneck to show the four one of Lucifer’s devil’s seals.

“Is that why He helped Roz?” asked Theo, always looking for the positive.

“Partly,” agreed Sabrina. “It was one of the conditions that we agreed upon.”

“Conditions, plural?” asked Harvey, picking up at Sabrina’s hesitancy.

“Yes,” said Sabrina, bracing herself for how her friends might react.

“What were the other conditions?”

The white-haired witch sighed. She knew the conversation would inevitably turn toward the subject, but she had been hoping for a few more minutes of non-judgement before jumping off the deep end. “The Dark Lord’s freedom, to begin with,” she said eventually. “The Unholy Regalia, and the Throne of Hell.”

Theo watched his friend carefully, picking up on her indecision. “Does the Throne of Hell have something to do with why the Dark Lord said you were His bride?”

“I’m not His wife, Theo,” said Sabrina quietly, earning a sigh of relief from the young teen. “We get married tomorrow.”

“What!”

Sabrina couldn’t tell who was more surprised by the revelation, but everyone, except Roz, had jumped up and began questioning her around the same time.

“The Dark Lord refused my initial offer of freedom when I entreated His help,” explained Sabrina, locking eyes with Roz, who had already heard the story. After the commotion had died down somewhat, she continued. “There was no choice. We either risked facing extinction from the pagans…or I set the Dark Lord free…and marry Him. The ceremony is tomorrow. I would like for you all to be there with me, but I won’t force you.”

“Sabrina, that’s huge,” said Theo.

“I know, and I realize that it may be too much to ask of you guys, that it might be too weird, but I want my friends there with me, to stand at my side…if you’re willing.” Sabrina regarded her friends, who appeared to be struggling to come to terms with what she was saying and asking of them.

“Are you kidding me right now?” demanded Harvey, looking at Sabrina as though she had sprouted another head. “You want us to come watch you marry your father?” His face was the picture of incredulity. “How could you ask us something like that? That’s sick!”

“Harvey—”

“No!” he exploded. “I don’t want anything to do with you or your father. It’s gross! I don’t want to even think about it, let alone witness it—”

“My pact with Lucifer is the only reason you can kiss your girlfriend,” pointed out Sabrina, hurt by his words.

“The answer is no, Sabrina,” repeated Harvey, getting up off the couch and walking out the garage.

Sabrina sighed, expecting the others to follow suit. What she didn’t expect was to feel two sets of arms wrap around her from either side of the couch.

“Of course we’ll be there ‘Brina,” said Theo, patting her back.

“Me too,” agreed Roz, putting her head on her shoulder. “Like I’d pass up going to my best friend’s wedding.”

They sat wrapped up together for ages, until comfort won out and finally broke the trio up.

“How are you doing with all of this?” asked Theo, hand rubbing his white-haired friend’s back. “Did you know you were getting married tomorrow? How are you feeling?”

“I’m…better than I thought,” replied Sabrina, trying to get a handle on her emotions to have a better answer. “Better than I would have been if you’d asked me a week ago. As for the wedding, that was decided today. Lucifer was going to whisk me away to Hell for a ceremony sometime later on with only demons and family present, but I wanted the chance to have you guys with me, so…that left tomorrow.”

“Wow. He really didn’t give you much time to plan anything,” commented Roz.

Sabrina shrugged. “It was inevitable, Roz, especially after the quest was finished. Whether it happened tomorrow or twenty years from now, I struck a bargain with Him. It was always going to end in us walking down the aisle.” She bit her lip remembering the pain of going against the bargain and shivered.

“You don’t seem nearly as upset about the prospect as I’d thought you’d be,” noted Theo, surprised that her spirited friend would give in so willingly. The same friend who had gone to the trouble of creating a mandrake version of herself to remove her powers in an attempt to thwart the same Dark Lord’s ascension she was about to marry.

“The contract would kill me if I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain,” explained Sabrina. “It puts things in perspective rather easily.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Do you at least have a dress for tomorrow? Or a venue where this marriage is supposed to take place?”

“Yes to both,” replied Sabrina, with her first genuine smile since the Fright Club meeting began. “I’m going to wear my mother’s wedding dress, that was never a question. As for the venue, the Dark Lord already picked the Desecrated Church, with my Aunt Zelda officiating.”

Roz shook her head with a sad smile. “I can’t believe my best friend, the Queen of Hell, is getting married tomorrow. To the Dark Lord, no less.”

“Me either,” admitted Sabrina, nervous. “I’ve got bats fluttering in my stomach just thinking about it. I doubt I’ll get much sleep tonight.”

Theo and Roz exchanged glances behind the young half-witch’s back.

“Sabrina,” began Theo, hesitantly, “are you _happy_ about marrying the Dark Lord?”

She looked at Theo confused. “I’m sixteen, Theo. I wasn’t planning on marrying anyone until I could say my age without the word teen in it, and I always envisioned it would involve a groom that wasn’t my father.”

Roz patted her back, unsure of what to say and how to comfort her best girlfriend. “I’m sorry, ‘Brina,” she offered, lamely. “I wish there was something I could do.”

Sabrina bit her lip and looked at Roz hopefully.

“What?” asked her friend, feeling nervous suddenly seeing the speculative look overtake her witch-friend’s face.

“I was wondering,” she began slowly, “if I could ask a favour of you?”

“I suppose.”

“If it’s not too much, I was wondering if you could use your _cunning_ on me?”

Roz hadn’t been expecting the question but couldn’t say she was surprised to hear it. “What are you hoping to see exactly?”

Sabrina shrugged ruefully. “I’m getting married tomorrow. I guess I was just wondering if it’s going to be as bad as I think it is.”

“I can try,” she offered, feeling bad for her friend.

Roz was admittedly nervous about looking past the veil into Sabrina’s future again, especially after the eyeful she had unintentionally received last time.

Nevertheless, she felt like she owed it to Sabrina to give it another try. Roz knew that if their roles were reversed, Sabrina would do the same for her. Roz gripped the white-haired witch’s hand tightly in her own, reaching within herself to channel and hone the _cunning_. When she opened her eyes, it was clear it had worked.

There was a tall, imposing man with a lame leg standing before the throne of Pandemonium, where she could see the Dark Lord seated comfortably on a large, golden throne, her best friend standing firm at His left side, her hand on His shoulder in open support as they looked onto the unknown character before them.

“Lord and Lady Morningstar,” greeted the man, offering them the barest of inclinations with his head in respect of their authority.

The King of Hell looked onto the Greek deity intrigued. “What brings one of the twelve Gods of Mount Olympus into the bowls of Perdition?”

“Necessity, I’m afraid,” he replied, turning his attention to the beautiful young Queen at the Devil’s side.

Roz took a moment to study her white-haired best friend. She looked healthy standing on the dais, her hand possessively positioned on the Dark Lord’s shoulder. The gown she wore was long and gold, the front offering a suggestive peak at the swell of her breast with a plunging neckline. Overall, Roz had to admit that Sabrina looked good in her new role. She was confident and powerful.

“You have a powerful enemy after you, Lady of Shadow,” continued the God, bringing Roz’s attention back to the conversation taking place.

The Dark Lord took to His feet at the utterance, unconsciously placing Himself in front of Sabrina, as if to ward off an impending attack.

“Who dares to challenge my wife?” He thundered, His expression murderous—which, curiously enough, gave Roz an odd sense of relief. At least the Dark Lord appeared to care for her best friend’s wellbeing.

“A strange Satanic warlock by the name of Faustus Blackwood,” replied the deity, unimpressed by the Lord of Pandemonium’s posturing and demands. “He has aligned himself with the fringe Pagans, who had the audacity to summon me and my skill to create a great and terrible tool.”

The King of Hell sneered at the God of Forges. “Why would you offer us such intelligence?”

The Hellen was not moved by Satan’s anger or pithy words. “My nephew tells me you both have a part to play in our future—a shared and mutually beneficial, continued future. That is the reason I have humbled myself before you today, and further offer my services as a smith.”

“Playing both sides, are we?” asked the Dark Lord, His amusement returned. “I can respect that.”

“I have a duty to answer summons made of me, Lucifer Morningstar,” snapped the deity. “If the offer is just, my hands are tied. The price was paid for the object sought.”

“Just what kind of object was sought?” asked Sabrina, a foreboding sense overtaking her.

“A scythe, like that of the Keeper of Time, Chronos. Faustus Blackwood seeks to go back in time, using the power of the Eldritch, focused by my tool.”

The scene changed abruptly before Roz, moving into the dark and ominous shadows of the Greendale Woods. Roz could hear the telltale heavy breathing of an amourous couple nearby, and debated with herself whether or not she wanted to proceed any further. The decision was taken away from her, when the clearing opened up, showing Sabrina and the Dark Lord locked in a fierce embrace in front of a stone platform, surrounded by an array of candles with a large tome at the centre.

The blonde, young witch managed to pull away from the Devil long enough to say breathlessly, “I was so worried. No one remembers anything. I thought I was all alone.”

The Dark Lord framed Sabrina’s face with His hands, leaning forward to capture her lips softly with His own. “Never.”

When both parties separated long enough for air, Roz heard her friend whisper, “we went back a long way, Lucifer. Most of the Church of Night is still alive, and I think Harvey and I just broke up.”

“You know what that means,” whispered the Dark Lord, salaciously pressing His tongue against the juncture of Sabrina’s neck, “you haven’t signed my book. I could tell the moment I saw your pretty golden head.” One hand played with a wispy tendril of hair, while the other cupped her ass, pulling Sabrina in closer to Him. “You have not ascended, and yet I retain my angelic form.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said, leaning forward on her tiptoes to bite at His lower lip.

The Dark Lord brought His left hand between them and observed a faint white outline of the contract He and Sabrina had made. “I still wear our mark, though greatly faded, on my skin.”

Time seemed to move in fast-forward with the Dark Lord and Sabrina, until Roz had to avert her eyes in embarrassment. It had only been a second, but before turning away, there was no mistaking that her friend had been bent at the waist, hands scrambling for purchase on the stone slab, while the Dark Lord entered her from behind, drawing Sabrina back in sharp bursts as He sought to possess her.

“You will sign my book, daughter?” He grunted, voice strained as He occupied Himself defiling Roz’s best friend. “You will give me all of yourself? Willingly? A second time?”

“Yes!” screamed Sabrina.

Roz turned her gaze back, long enough to see Sabrina scribble something hastily inside the book, before arching her neck back in ecstasy.


	29. Quality Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments on this story. Next chapter will include the wedding! :) Should be out within a week. Happy reading!

Sabrina watched as Roz turned an alarming shade of red when her focus returned from her vision. Seeing Sabrina on the edge of Harvey’s dilapidated couch, eyeing her with unabashed curiosity and hope, jarred her thoughts which were still coming to terms with the image of that same best friend bent over a concrete slab screaming the Dark Lord’s name in ecstasy as He desperately ravaged her in the woods. Roz ducked her head to avoid any more probative glances, counting to ten before attempting to face the room a second time.

Roz’s sudden inability to make eye contact with anyone alarmed Sabrina, who wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. The young witch tried to be patient, but curiosity was gnawing too heavily at her tattered nerves to continue sitting quietly.

“What did you see?” asked Sabrina, discomfited by Roz’s persistent silence. The longer it lagged, the more it unnerved the young witch, who had to fold her hands together to keep from biting her nails or reaching out to shake the answers out of Roz. “Can you tell me if it was good at least? Or…that bad?”

“I’m not entirely sure how to answer that,” admitted Roz eventually, still unable to look at her friend, whom she had seen far too much of only moments earlier.

Theo regarded both his friend struggle to speak with one another and resolved to step in and assist his two favourite women. He placed a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder in support and cleared his throat rather pointedly to gain Roz’s attention. Once earned, Theo gestured awkwardly with his head at the despondent young witch, his meaning clear: talk to her.

“Sorry, ‘Brina,” offered Roz. “I just needed a minute to…collect myself. I had two back-to-back visions of you. Sometimes I need longer to…process the information.” She reached out to take Sabrina’s folded hands in her own, squeezing them once to reassure the white-haired witch. “The first was in Hell. It was too hard to tell how far into the future it was.”

Sabrina nodded, understanding.

Roz paused a moment to consider her friend, contemplating what she could say to detract from some of the bad things she had seen or heard. “You looked stunning,” she said with a small smile, watching as Sabrina perked up a bit at the offhand comment. “Powerful too. You stood at the Dark Lord’s side. You guys were on the dais looking down onto Pandemonium. There was a huge, towering man speaking with you. He was quite tan and had a club foot he dragged behind him. Your father referred to him as one of the twelve of Mount Olympus. The stranger referred to himself as a smith—”

“That could only mean Hephaestus,” interrupted Robin, reminding the group he had stuck around after Harvey’s abrupt departure.

“Well, Hephaestus, was warning you that Blackwood was developing a tool of some sort to channel the power of the Eldritch in order to go back in time.”

“That can’t be good,” muttered Sabrina, catching Robin’s eye, who only nodded back gravely.

“I didn’t get to see much more than that before getting whisked away into another vision,” apologized Roz. “He pledged his support to you and the Dark Lord, and that about covers the one.”

“And the other?” asked Sabrina, spotting a light rouge begin to fill her friend’s cheeks for the second time in as many minutes.

“Well,” she said with a strangled tone of voice. “The other one started in a clearing in the Greendale Woods.”

It was Roz’s turn to consider the reddening of her friend’s face.

“I think I know the one,” said Sabrina, her voice equally strained.

“Yes, well, from what I could initially hear,” she continued, focusing on her hands, still wrapped around Sabrina’s—as much to support her friend as to support herself, “you and the Dark Lord had been separated for a while…but were _very_ relieved to find each other. It was difficult to make out at first, but it sounded as though Blackwood’s plan had worked. You said that you had just broken up with Harvey, and the Dark Lord said something about a book of His you hadn’t signed.”

Theo noted Roz’s reluctance to continue speaking and gathered there had been a little bit more to the vision than she wanted to share, whether it was because Robin and he were still present, or the topic embarrassed her too much, Theo figured it was best to let it be for the time being.

“Was there anything else?” asked Sabrina, noting the same reluctance Theo had spied, and greedy for whatever further information Roz could supply.

Roz abruptly removed her hands from Sabrina’s to study. “Not much,” she said, slightly breathless. “The vision ended with you signing your name in His book.” Roz managed to tear her gaze from her hands long enough to pin Sabrina with a small, sad smile. “If I had to guess, from the glimpses the _cunning_ allowed me to see of your future…you weren’t miserable, ‘Brina. In fact, you seemed to really…enjoy it.”

* * *

There wasn’t much conversation to be had following Roz’s revelations, leading the remaining Fright Club members to disperse.

Theo and Robin left first, headed back into town for Dr. Cerberus’, both looking to prolong their evening out together, still deep in the throes of young love. Sabrina didn’t linger long after they left, hoping to avoid another confrontation with Harvey, who was Roz’s lift back home.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to steal a ride from Harvey?” asked Roz, once more before Sabrina could set down the driveway along the path the young witch had taken too many times to count. “I don’t like it when you two fight. You guys used to be so close. I hate this.”

“I know, Roz,” said Sabrina, remorsefully. “If I thought it would help, I would. I just can’t see Harvey changing his mind about this.”

“If you’re sure then,” conceded the _cunning_ woman. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” called Roz, watching as Sabrina’s silhouette disappeared in the growing darkness outside. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she wasn’t aware her boyfriend had joined her, until his arm settled possessively around her shoulders, causing her to jump.

“You ready to head home, too?” asked Harvey, frowning in the general direction his ex had left.

“I think so,” drawled Roz. “I could use an early night after so much excitement.”

“I don’t know if ‘excitement’ is quite the word I would use,” quipped Harvey, mulling over everything he had learned from Sabrina in the last hour. “Shock and alarm come to mind. Disgust as well.” He winced feeling Roz’s elbow nudge him gently in the side.

“Be nice! You may have given up on Sabrina, but she’s still one of my best friends. If you don’t want to go to her wedding tomorrow, that’s your prerogative. I don’t want to hear any more from you on the subject.”

“You’re seriously going to that freakshow?” asked Harvey, incredulous. “Sabrina’s marrying her _father_. Let’s that about that for a second. He isn’t some student from her other school that she’s been dating for a while—like Nick. Sabrina’s going to be promising herself to her own flesh and blood. The same flesh and blood, I’ll remind you,” continued Harvey, on a rampage, “that tried to kill us not that long ago.”

“I’m well aware of her relationship to Him,” snapped Roz. “I’ve seen more of that relationship that I care to speak to. I’m also aware, having spoken to Sabrina at length on the subject, that she doesn’t have a choice. If Sabrina and her Coven were wiped out, how long do you think the town would last?”

“There’s always another way,” argued Harvey. “We could have found another body to lock Him up—”

“Didn’t you hear Sabrina in there?” asked Roz, gesturing wildly to the garage. “The Dark Lord was siphoning their power because they locked Him away. It didn’t matter what body they cast Him in. Maybe there was an alternative,” allowed Roz, “but we don’t know that for certain, and Sabrina didn’t seem to think her Coven had much time to consider one.”

“I guess.”

“Harvey,” began Roz, her voice taking on a gentler tone. “This might be the last time we get to see Sabrina for a long time. She’s the Queen of Hell, Harvey. Tomorrow night, the Queen of Hell is set to marry the Dark Lord—who is currently watching over Hell in her absence. Once they’re married, I doubt the Dark Lord’s going to let His wife loiter around Greendale just because her family and friends want to see her.”

“Then she shouldn’t—”

“I’m done discussing this, Harvey,” said Roz softly, her gaze embodying the disappointment she felt for her boyfriend. “If you don’t want to come tomorrow, I’m not going to force you to. I’m not even going to try to convince you otherwise. Don’t go. However, you owe me the same respect to decide what I want to do for myself. I _am_ going to that wedding, Harvey Kinkle. I refuse to let my best friend think she’s on her own.”

Harvey walked away from his girlfriend without another word, heading for his truck to start up and drive her home.

* * *

Zelda, Hilda, and Ambrose sat around the Spellman kitchen table in silence. A freshly baked cherry pie long forgotten on the table in front of them as they waited silently on the return of the last wayward Spellman. Hours had passed since Sabrina’s departure, and the small family felt it deeply. The thought hadn’t left the trio that they would be losing the youngest Spellman to Hell in a matter of hours.

“What time is the Unholy Union set to take place?” asked Ambrose quietly.

“No self-respecting witch would have it earlier than the Witching Hour,” replied Zelda primly. “As Sabrina is the future bride to the Dark Lord, and the Queen of Hell in her own right, it wouldn’t be proper to consider anything otherwise.”

“There’s so much to do before then,” said Hilda, worried. “I wonder what’s taking her so long?”

“Auntie Hilda, Sabrina only learned she was getting married a few hours ago,” said Ambrose, trying to soothe the older witch. “It would be a lot for anyone to take in. I imagine she just needed some fresh air and space to properly absorb the news. It’s been an eventful week for Sabrina. Tack on the added drama from Reverend Walker and you have an overwhelmed teenage witch in need of an outlet. She’ll come home, Auntie.”

Hilda nodded her head, agreeing with her nephew, but she couldn’t help the overwhelming concern she felt for her young niece.

It was at that moment Sabrina walked through the front door, calling for her Aunties and Ambrose.

“We’re in the kitchen, Sabrina,” replied Zelda, lighting up another cigarette.

They heard the young teen shuffle around the stairwell to come join them in the kitchen, and take a seat around the table, eyeing her family contemplatively as if trying to guess who would speak up first in the group.

“You’ve been gone a while,” commented Zelda, raising a brow.

“I had to clear the air with my friends,” replied Sabrina, shrugging. “They had some questions about the last few days, I figured I owed them a few explanations. I also wanted to make sure they were invited to my wedding tomorrow—considering the date was moved up to accommodate their presence.”

Hilda regarded her youngest charge with a sad smile. “How did they take it, love?”

Sabrina matched the matronly witch’s smile. “Theo, Roz, and Robin are coming tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Harvey…Harvey’s having trouble accepting everything—particularly the point where I will be marrying the Dark Lord…who is my father…”

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s not like it’ll matter after tomorrow, Aunt Hilda,” sighed Sabrina, reaching out for the untouched pie at the centre of the table along with a fork, and began to eat the dessert with gusto. “I doubt Lucifer will let me hang around Greendale all that long after our wedding,” she added between bites.

“Speaking of your wedding,” jumped in Zelda. “Have you put any thought into what you’ll be wearing and who’ll be standing at the front with you? I realize we’re running short on time, but are there any decorations we can try to find? I would have your wedding be as special and personal to you as we can manage.”

“I want to wear my mother’s wedding dress,” said Sabrina softly, the revelation unsurprising to anyone at the table. “You’re going to be officiating, Aunt Zee, and I’ve already asked Lilith to stand at my side as Matron of Dishonour.”

The young witch watched as her younger aunt’s face dropped and quickly added, “while I haven’t asked yet,” she continued, reaching across the table to touch Hilda’s hand, “I was hoping you and Ambrose would give me away?” Sabrina couldn’t help feeling pleased when her blonde-haired aunt began sniffling, tripping over her words as she agreed several times over.

“I would be honoured, cousin,” replied Ambrose.

“There’s another request I have, if you don’t mind passing it along.”

Ambrose’s eyebrow shot up as he waited for his cousin to finish her request.

“I was also hoping to ask Prudence to be my attendant tomorrow,” she said hesitantly. “I know she and I have never been particularly close, but she’s helped me a lot these last few days. Nothing about this situation has been easy, but I can honestly say Prudence has done more for me than some of my human friends these last few days.”

“I can’t speak for Prudence,” replied her cousin, “but I expect she would agree to take whatever part she could in the Dark Lord’s wedding.”

* * *

No one around the table wanted to be the first to leave, as none of the Spellmans knew when they would have another night around the table together. Instead of talking about Sabrina’s wedding or the Reverend’s visit, they took turns talking about all the fond memories they had with each other. When the fifth candle had burned to smoke, Sabrina decided to call it for everyone, pulling back from the table to turn in. It was Zelda’s voice that stopped her.

“If you told me you were having second thoughts about this wedding, and that you wanted to disappear, not even my position as High Priestess would stop me from spiriting you away where no one would ever find you.”

Sabrina looked back at her fierce red-headed aunt fondly. “I know you would, Aunt Zee. You’ve protected me all my life, it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t try now.” She offered Zelda a determined look and added, “but it’s my turn to protect the family.” Sabrina was about to continue on her way upstairs, when her aunt’s voice stopped her again.

“If you…if this wedding was something you…weren’t completely opposed to…you would still have the full support of your family.”

Sabrina couldn’t bring herself to turn around again, her heart beating uncomfortably fast, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I know Auntie Zee,” she said quietly.

The young white-haired witch couldn’t bring herself to say anything more and walked the rest of the way to her room.

Upon opening the door, she received the fright of her life in the form of her Matron of Dishonour, Lilith.

**Author's Note:**

> First story. Please be kind.


End file.
